Creatures Of Flesh
by PaintMeAntagonist
Summary: Sometime after the strange events of the Opera Populaire a woman escapes her own private hell of a sanatorium and Erik, by chance, finds her. Will they become the end of one another or faithful companions in the darkness? ErikxOC. New chapter!
1. Chapter 1: At Land's End

Chapter One: At Land's End

_"Full many a gem of the purest ray serene_

_The dark unfathomed caves of the ocean bear_

_Full many a a flower is born to blush unseen_

_And waste its sweetness on the desert air."_

_Thomas Gray_

_**Elodie**_

The time was half past midnight and the streets were hauntingly empty. There was nowhere for her to go. She had long since given up on returning, broken and withered, to her family abode. There was no point, she told herself, in going only be to given sad looks and snide whispers. Her mother detested her for her sickness and her father coddled her to within an inch of her patience. No, she certainly could not return to that.

Her escape from the ward of the never-returning sick ones had been miraculous. She had no intention of every being forced back into the hellhole. She would rather die first. She turned, her slightly matted brown hair twirling in the late night breeze, to stare back up at the dimly lit sanatorium where she had spent the last two years of her life. From Cassandra's window she could she a shadowy figure. She raised a hand as if her only friend could see her, down among the normal people, down where she hid among the shadows.

The streets were deserted and it sent shivers up her spine. She was not insane like some of those living in the place up on the hill, forced into seclusion from this little village. She very much had her wits about her. But her parents didn't know what to do with her. Her illness was far too much for them to handle. They didn't understand it. So they had shipped her off here. She didn't know where here was. That was perhaps the more frightening part of escaping late at night. She knew not a soul and found herself quite abandoned by her own desire for freedom.

"Now what do I do?" She crooned gently as she squeezed herself, her spindly arms wrapped around her frail figure. "I don't know where I am. I don't know how I got here. There is nothing but tiny houses and ocean and forest." She began wandering, aimlessly, toward the beach. Normally she avoided water at all costs. There was something sinister in the great lengths it stretched and the depths to which it dove. It was endless and more alive than she could ever dream of. It was unknown and that frightened her. Tonight, however, she had no plans to avoid it. This might be the only solution she had left.

Her old dress, the one that they had made her wear in the sanatorium, was ratty and in need of mending. She pretended she was a foul ghost haunting the streets of the village brave enough to host a place for the terminally mentally ill. She began to gently hum to herself as she weaved down lanes, twirling her dress about her. By the time she reached the ocean her legs were exhausted. She willingly collapsed, ignoring the pain that shot through her spine as she fell to the ground. She pulled her tiny legs up to her chest and rested her head upon them. Sometimes her head felt so heavy. So unbearably heavy that she just had to lay it down for a moment.

She breathed in and out. The feeling of her ragged breath was unnatural. She felt spent and barely alive. She felt so close to being free of the shell of her body. She smiled, full with ideas of what would soon come. She forced her eyes open and stared out at the ocean, watching the waves beat continuously upon the sandy shores. Mesmerized, the sound of water hitting solidness and the feel of salty air breathing life onto her skin; she forced herself up onto her feet and staggered toward the water. One foot in front of the other, she told herself. It was as if her body had forgotten how to walk.

The water was cool beneath her feet, slipping in between her emaciated toes and shivering its way under her heels. Her ankles were left cold. This was life. This was what she had wanted those two years hidden away. They always promised a seashore trip if they were good. But someone always ruined it for everyone else. Usually it was her because she refused the nourishment pushed toward her. She stuck out her tongue at the thought of it all, the disgusting mashed food they dared to call the nourishment that would save her.

Well, she had gotten herself down to the beach without their food or their assistance. She was stronger than they all thought. She was filled with the desire for one of them to see her now, standing with her toes dipped into salt water and her eyes so alive with the hum of the ocean's power. She wished they could see her now. Her last thought before she blacked out, falling onto the wet, sandy beach, was that she was stronger and more alive than any of them thought.

_**Erik**_

The beach was empty at night. He loved the beach. There was something forbidding about it; something beautiful that he should have not been given the good grace to experience. He never frolicked in the water like children or like the lovers he sometimes spotted from the place where he stayed, just on the edge of the village and the rocky shore. He had to travel some distance to get to the smooth beach, the place where people came every day. His home was off to the right, barely reachable by the deathly sharp and jagged rocks that scattered the beach.

It was his at night. Which was just as well as he preferred late night walks to sunshine anyway. On his way down he glanced up at the sanatorium, dimly lit from the inside. A shiver traced his spine unwillingly. Annoyed, he cast it off and continued to study the building's grim façade. The villagers often pretended they couldn't hear the ungodly shrieks that rose from the place on occasion. For being incurably and mentally insane, he suspected every inmate liked to take pride in their screams, knowing they scared the little children down below. Sometimes he wondered if they opened the windows just to scream as if their lungs were about to explode.

Further up on the beach something drew his eye away from the building of destitute and crazed souls. There was a tiny figure tracing her way toward the water's edge. She was taller than an average child, her dress sweeping the sand, but her frame was so deathly thin that he wondered if, perhaps, she was not real. Her spindly arms were bared by the sleeves of the dress shoved back, she struggled to lift up the dress as she placed a stick thin leg out toward the water. Her hair was flowing around her. He watched, mesmerized, as she stood on the edge of the world and water. Her head was thrown back in delight. There was something compromising about the situation. And there was something wrong with such a tiny figure standing alone on a beach late at night.

He watched her fall, her fragile body slamming unforgivingly into the ground. He imagined for a moment that her body was tired and sad that it had not burst into dust upon impact, only further proving that the soul trapped inside had another day to live.


	2. Chapter 2: Loneliness

Chapter Two: Loneliness

_"The person who tries to live alone will not succeed as a human being. His heart withers if it does not answer another heart. His mind shrinks away if he hears only the echoes of his own thoughts and finds no other inspiration."_

_Pearl S. Buck_

_**Erik**_

She was so thin, so fragile, so weightless. It was like picking up a feather and carrying it cradled in toward your chest with both arms. He was slightly afraid she would blow away in the wind. His normal fear and frustration with people was suspended when he approached her. There was no doubt where she came from.

Her emaciated body looked host to numerous bruises and determined malnutrition. Her gaunt face was pale. Dark half circle patches of skin lingered under her eyes which seemed slightly sunk back into her head. Her bones were prominent. He was afraid he would crush her. Her breathing was shallow but evident and he half imagined he could see her heart beating in her chest. There was no doubt she was on the border of life and death.

Thoughts often came too quickly to his mind these days. After years and years in solitude, only formally broken once by the lovely soprano singer who still haunted his dreams, he was terribly lonely. He knew he deserved no company, but this girl, she deserved no death. And she would most certainly die out here as the winds picked up and the tide came in more fiercely. The decision was one he made wearily. He didn't particularly want to burden himself with questions, with the stares he would receive upon her waking. Still, he had scooped her up and started home with her.

There was a fleeting moment where he thought of bringing her back to the sanatorium. It was a mild walk and she weighed close to nothing. It was only fleeting, however, when he realized that his face was bare, as it often was when he wandered the village and beach late at night. It was the one time he allowed the salty wind to mingle with the complete flesh of his face. He had not thought of wearing his mask tonight. And since that was the case he once again made the decision to return to his small cottage house with her.

Once in his home he glanced about. It was a lonely man's home. That much was evident. There were no touches of familial comfort, no family portraits on the walls. There was very little to show who exactly lived inside this humble cottage. A lounge rested close to a window and this is where he deposited her. He draped a throw blanket over her carefully and with a glance down noticed the paper he had gotten from Paris. An article on the man who had taken his one truest love away from him was splayed across the floor. He kicked it angrily under the lounge and retreated into his own room where he shut the door, slipped on his mask once more, and sat.

The moon was almost full tonight. He knew in another fortnight Christine would give birth. That was what all the papers said.

_**Elodie**_

Her dreams were often thick with fears and worries. Not a night went by that she didn't dream of a feast placed before her and a knightly man sitting at the head of the table glaring her down as she stared, desired, the food. Some nights she ate it. She greedily sank her teeth into chicken and tarts and pile upon pile of bread. Most nights she sat there, trying desperately to flee the chair. She never could. It was as if she were pinned down by some unseen force. Some nights she dreamed of death. Not just any death but her death. These were the ones that caused her wake in a sweat, clenching the scratchy blanket she had been given tight in her fist. She would be amazed her hands could still conjure that much power.

This night she dreamt of the ocean. Vividly, it called to her. It spoke her name alluringly. She stood on a dock somewhere in the North of France. She recognized this dock. It belonged to her father. She stared off at the ocean and began thinking why the ocean knew her name. She had certainly never whispered it into the salty waters. Nor had she ever been properly introduced by one who knew her as well as the vicious and lively waters.

The waves beating against the wooden dock sent her into a state of panic. A boat, she was sure she was on a boat. No, she told herself sternly, you're on the dock. Papa will be here soon. She forced herself to sit, her bony bottom biting into her skin as she pushed it down on uncaring wood. Her feet were over the edge of the dock, swaying and just out of reach of the ocean. It tried very hard to lap at her toes. She could feel its loneliness, its misery.

_Elodie, please, won't you join me? I'm so alone. No one understands the pain of loneliness. But you? You understand, don't you? Please. Come in and join me. _It pleaded with her, never stopping its barrage of requests. Hours passed and she sat waiting for the sun to rise so she could abandon this ocean and trudge back toward her family manor. The sun never rose. She began to feel as if her heart was ripping in two. She needed this now more than ever. She realized it with sudden clarity.

When she stood her legs were shaky. She knew it not to be nerves but the unsteady use of her muscles. She was so cold but the ocean pleaded that it was so warm and they could be together forever. They could make each other feel more alive. It sparkled as she leaned over the edge of the dock. There was no going back. She knew this. So she flung herself off and landed painfully in the water as it swirled about her. At first it was a giggle that the ocean produced but it quickly turned to a manic laugh, a deep manly laugh that terrified her. She refused to fight back. That would show she didn't trust the ocean. The ocean made promises and kept them. She swallowed her fear with a gulp of salt water. The pain in her lungs was pounding in her head.

She woke. There was no sweat only a sad realization that she had made it through another night. The sun was shining meekly from behind clouds. It was going to rain today. It took her a moment to realize she wasn't in her tiny cell in the sanatorium. That she was, in fact, lying on a comfortable lounge with a soft throw placed over her. She could hear the ocean and smell the salt. She decided she was in a small cottage. A lovely small cottage.

When she stood on the floor the wooden boards creaked warmly. She smiled as she traced them with her feet.

A glance around the cottage gave her a feeling of uncertainty. She could not tell who had taken her from the beach, who lived here, who called this place home. In an adjoining room she saw a small wood stove. A small wooden table, empty of life, sat next to a window. The main room which she stood in had the lounge and a single row of shelves with nothing on them. It looked empty and lonely. She shivered.

Crème colored curtains fluttered in the breeze and she reached out a hand to assure herself they were real. That was when she spotted the closed door. It was foreboding in its silence, heavy in appearance. She shuffled quietly to it and placed an ear on the surface. There was no sound from inside. Startled, she withdrew immediately.

Outside of the cottage she could spot the sanatorium. A grin spread across her skeletal face. She had truly escaped. She was free of the hell that had been hers for two long years. Now she could live as she wanted to, surviving on what little she wanted to. She stood leaning against the cottage with her eyes closed, thinking about her new found freedom. There was not a care in the world for her now. With the exception of the sudden bang that jolted her out of her daydreams; a noisy expulsion came from inside the cottage.

It must have been her lack of sense, which seemed so natural to her, but she picked her way through the wispy weeds that she had been standing in and forced open the front door of the cottage. Nothing seemed out of place. The closed door still remained closed. There was no point in denying it any longer. She was curious. And curiosity was not something she ever held out against for long. The door was surprisingly easy to open. It swung back on the hinges and bumped slightly into the wall.

This room was much warmer than the rest of the house, in tone and temperature though the curtains were dark and blocked out much of the sunlight. A single empty bed lay just in front of her, the sheets and quilts untouched and unruffled. The floor was impeccably clean. There was a desk near a window with a single chair pushed back. This is where she found him.

Her heart began to beat out her fear when she realized it was a man. His form was imposing and headless for the moment, though she could see it rested on the desk. His hair was neatly slicked back. His arms were draped upon the desk. A white shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and back. She could see the power in that body and it frightened her. He was, she realized, oddly dressed for someone who lived in a small seaside cottage in a village underneath a sanatorium. He wasn't dressed like the peasantry people she sometimes encountered below when she wandered out of the gates in sunlight. She was stricken with the idea that this man was concerned with appearance.

Her hand quickly flew to her messed hair and across her face. She traced the concave pit of her stomach and wondered what he had thought when he had first seen her. She wondered if he had struggled to bring her here. Even to herself her limbs felt, thick, heavy and near impossible to move. She crept forward a bit to see that a rather large leather bound book had crashed to the ground. It was splayed open like a woman inviting a man inside. She glanced away embarrassed by the openness of a single book. A long red ribbon lay across a page filled with elegantly scrawled handwriting.

"Curiosity killed the cat." She reminded herself as she took a step forward, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of a single word. Something else distracted her, however. His face. Pressed against the sculpted beauty of his flesh was an odd white mask. It felt similarly beautiful if not eerily, alluringly dangerous. She paused, thinking hard about why a man living so far removed from proper society would need a mask on his face. Her only thought was that he must be hiding something. Horrible and disfigured, she decided. He was most likely a sad man who had been in an accident of fire or pain. She grasped a thin wrist and let her fingers travel the markings of glass shards she had dug into her own skin. No, she decided, she was wrong. He was just a strange eccentric man. He was not disfigured and disgustingly grotesque like her. There was no one like her in the world. She was alone and always would be.

She retreated from the room, closing the door behind her.

_**Erik**_

The slight creaking of the tired floorboards outside of his room woke him. He was surprised that he had even fallen asleep as he rarely slept much at all these days. His dreams were one of misery, ones of Christine as they always were. He knew the fragile creature outside was wandering around his home, searching for clues. He removed his mask and placed it on the desk beneath him. His hands felt cool and rough against his eyes and he relished the feeling.

There was nothing lonelier than the feeling of your own touch. No one else could tolerate it, especially him.

The mask slipped back on easily. Sometimes he wondered if he ever really took it off. It had the curious habit of being transfixed to his features, even now away from eyes that would care,. It had been such a part of him for so long he doubted there was any way for him to remove it even momentarily. He rose and sat on the bed noticing the journal lying on the floor. There was no point in picking it up, he concluded. No one would happen into this room uninvited. There was no point in hiding it as no one would be curious enough to read. No one in the world knew him and when no one knows you no one happens to care. He put his head upon a thin pillow and closed his eyes.

He only prayed this sleep wouldn't leave him with such an empty and aching feeling. That this one was blank and peaceful like the death he sometimes wished for. Nothing, he decided, was as painful as being so lonely.


	3. Chapter 3: Haunted

Chapter Three: Haunted

_**Elodie**_

Her mother had never wanted her. Not really. She cursed her silently for ruining all of her good looks. She cursed her for being the evidence of flame of desire. Elodie knew this secretly. Her mother never spoke it out loud to her but she could sense it in the way she studied her daughter with unhappy glimpses.

One night, five years ago, when Elodie had just turned fifteen, she had woken in the middle of the night to loud voices. The arguement between her parents frightened her. Her father's voice rose high and crashed low and her mother's clanged against the interiors of her mind. She snuck out of the warm and safe bed and manuevered herself silently down the carpeted hall. They were inside of her father's study. She stood for a moment, unsure of what to do. Her hands, now wet with sweat, clasped her night shift. She decidedly wedged herself on the opposite side of a large vase that her father had gotten from Italy. She steadied her breathing so as to listen more clearly to her parents.

"Robert," Her mother said shrilly. "the girl has no sense of self decency!"

"Sophie, she's just a child." He pleaded. "She cannot know what we expect of her. How could she when we never make it clear to her."

"She's excessive, Robert. You cannot deny it. Everything she does is filled with this excessive attitude. This impenetrable urge for waste and emotion."

"Sophie!" He exclaimed. "Do you not remember what it was like to be her age? The world is new and awaiting. She should be happy and vivacious."

"Vivacious!" Her mother said scornfully. "She's taken that word to new extremes. She's too full of something. Too much of something."

"Could it be that she is full of life, Sophie." Her father replied angrily. "Could it be you are threatened by her zeal for life."

"How dare you!" Her mother declared.

"You have forgotten how to live, Sophie. You spend days doing pointless things and you expect a young girl to do the same as you. It is utterly ridiculous."

"I was raised differently from you, Robert. A young lady is not supposed to behave like such a man. She acts as if the world is hers for the taking-"

"And who says it's not?" He said loudly, defending his only child.

"Everyone!" She screamed. "Everyone! Her dreams will be dashed and she will become a ruin and a scandal. She must learn to reign in her emotions and desires. They will get her no where and become nothing." Her mother sobbed freely. "You might think I am cruel but I know this world as only a woman can. I know what is best for my daughter and it is not what she is becoming."

"Than what do you suggest we do?" He said frustrated. "What do we do to crush the spirit and life out of her eyes?"

"A governess first." She declared. "If that doesn't work, boarding school."

Elodie shivered and rushed back to bed, playing with the idea that she was too much. That she was, indeed, in excess.

---

She sat at the table near the wood stove. Her fingers tapped relentlessly on the worn wood. She was impatient. The man had not risen and the day had wasted away. She had had nothing to do and no where to go. She had questions that needed to be answered and time that needed to be spent. She had traced every crevice on the table and was now thoroughly annoyed with the entire piece of wood. So much so that she had entertained the idea of cutting it up and chucking it into the stove for warmth. She was cold and the throw that she had slept under was doing little to keep her warm. Even the slight heat of summer was doing nothing.

Thoughts were her worst enemy and today was no different. She pondered who the man was. Where had he come from. Surely he was not from that absurd, tiny little village. Surely he had seen bigger and better things than that. He must be a man of the world. Her mind flew with exotic tales of his life. He had been in love once, truly and madly in love. An accident had ripped her from him and now he was alone and living as far away from the memories of her as possible. Yes, that was what she decided his life would be.

She leaned her head on her hands and stared out the window trying to conjure the image of his beloved. _Excess,_ her mind screamed and she determinedly pinched the flesh on her cheek. The pit of her stomach churned and she knew that the time would come soon where she would have to nibble at something.

She began to hum a pointless song, one she had heard once while in Paris with her father. She had thought it was a trip just for the sake of it but he was scouting boarding schools and had secretly taken her to an opera. She had loved every moment of it.

She smiled now, thinking of how foolish she had once been. Her stomach rumbled and she glanced at it embarrassed. Her hand clenched into a fist and she brought it harshly into her midsection. The breath that left her lungs was forced and painful. She began to tap her foot and hum louder. Anything to keep her mind off of her hunger.

"The dawn is smiling on the dew that covers  
The tearful roses; lo, the little lovers  
That kiss the buds, and all the flutterings  
In jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings,  
That go and come, and fly, and peep and hide,  
With muffled music, murmured far and wide. "*

She spoke as if it were natural for her. She repeated the first line amazed that she remembered it still. "I miss poetry." She declared as she stood and swerved unevenly. "I miss it quite a lot." She nodded to the chair as if it understood her. She moved back into the main room and stared for a moment at the lounge. "Speak to yourself as if you belong there, Elodie." She told herself. "Speak as if you belong up there with Cassandra and her invisible friends and lovers." She giggled as she placed a hand upon the door sullen door. "Knock." She ordered herself quietly. "Do it before he finds you out in the weeds chewing on them." She paused momentarily wondering how safe it would be to eat the weeds.

Her hand banged loudly on the door and she shrunk back afraid of the sound. She was always too loud. She knew this. She twisted her arms behind her and stared intently at the floor. _Excessive little tart,_ her mind screamed at her. _A tap would have done just as well._

She shivered against her thoughts and prayed that he would not rise and brandish a disapproving glare upon her. Perhaps the weeds would have been a better option.

---

_**Erik**_

It was barely a sound but he heard it. It was a light thud of an open palm meeting the wooden door carefully. It startled him at first, hazy from his light sleep. It made no sense in his mind that there would such a noise in his cottage. No one was ever so near him as to make such a sound. He sat quickly after that thought hit him but sunk back into his pillows once he remember the emaciated woman he had carried back to his cottage and left slumbering on his lounge.

He wondered if that was her attempt to make it seem accidental. As if she had just bumped the door and had not meant to alert him to her presence. He did not doubt that she was a timid creature, terrified by her own behavior.

He attempted to recall the face of the woman in his front room but all that came to his mind was Christine. Her lavishly curly hair, her sweet and gentle doe eyes, the smooth and pale tone of her skin. Most uninvited was the memory of the gentleness of her lips, soft and full like cushions. He rose annoyed and shook his head until he had banished the image from his mind. There was no point in spending his days recalling every feature of her serene face. It was an activity of torture. Parts of him wanted to make sure he did not ever forget her face, her being. How foolish his mind was. Decades could pass and he would still remember the way her hair sometimes wisped in her face, the gentle curve of a smile on her lips. She would haunt him forever.

---

Erik was suddenly filled with doubt at his actions. He could not recall what had possessed him to bring the girl back with him. It irked him and anxiety began to beat rapidly inside of his chest. This would not end well, he told himself. People are not meant for you.

He had taken to pacing the small confines of his room, wondering what she was doing out there. It appeared that all was silent. He imagined her sitting cautiously on the lounge, hands folded in her lap, head staring straight ahead. She certainly was not moving about. He, himself, was sure he was making quite a racket. He didn't know what to do and this bothered him most. He desperately wanted to leave the room because it was filled with memories of Christine. Memories he carried with him everywhere and unleashed too quickly. The room was filled with his aching longing to just set eyes on her once more.

Still he was uncertain of how to deal with the singular other body in his home. He was unsure of how to get her to leave. He didn't want a conversation, he didn't want anything of the sort. It seemed a never-ending ordeal to try and sit down with another human and converse as if he were as normal as she was. _Not that she is, _his mind hummed. _Her frame is thin and emaciated. She came from the sanatarium. She is little better than you. Better yes, but only by a little._

"Yes," He said quietly, to himself. "Well, there is no point in keeping us both in such suspense." He moved too suddenly toward the door and he paused. His attempts to gather his thoughts were almost in vain. His breathing was even, the mask was on. He could slip back into the powerful Phantom he had once pretended to be. It could get him through the next few hours until she left and he could be alone again. Alone as he was eternally meant to be.

---

A/N: So this is my second serious Phantom fanfic. I'm not sure how it's turning out and I'm not sure if anyone even likes it but I like writing it so I guess that's really all that matters.

*"The Genesis Of The Butterfly," Victor Hugo


	4. Chapter 4: So She Remains

Chapter Four: So She Remains

_**Elodie**_

The lounge would have been soft had she some sort of natural cushion for her bones. Sitting made it feel as if her bones were poking through her skin. It was quite painful and she shifted often trying to alleviate some of the irritation.

She was in the middle of doing so when the door opened. It was not incredibly fast as if he were in a hurry nor was it slow and suspenseful. She was amazed at the way it seemed so natural, so lacking in dramatics. Everything, she thought, should be done in extremes. It would make life much more interesting that way.

He stood for a second as if confused at seeing her then the blank look of uncertainty on his face was replaced by a look of cool composure. He stood, tall, his broad form stretching for what seemed a glorious eternity. She watched him in silence, unblinking. For a fleeting second she wondered if he were real, if he were mortal. Her head filled with spectacular fantasies of such a figure. He did not seem to belong in this insignificant tiny location off of no where.

Their eyes locked for a brief second before she forced herself to look away at the floor beneath him. His gaze was intense and painful. She worried he would see through her.

He seemed untroubled by the silence that filled the air. He seemed not to notice the creeping awkward sensations that were filling her head, the anxiety of being in front of another human being, the antisocial screams inside her head. To her it seemed as if hours were flying by and they were just staring at one another. Neither brave enough to speak a word.

"Thank you." She blurted out. Her hands fluttered nervously to her face and back to her lap. "I-well you see-ummm." She bit her thin lip and blinked back tears of fear. "Just thank you." She muttered as she twisted her dress around her bony fingers.

She glanced up to see him staring at her still. She wanted to crawl into herself and vanish into thin air. The silence was excruciating. Her mind could think of nothing else to say so she said nothing, only staring down at the floor, his feet, her lap. Her eyes began to water as she cursed her lack of humanity, her lack of understanding what was happening at this particular point in time.

"Yes, well, I couldn't very well leave you there." His voice was gruff, deep and scratchy as if he hadn't spoken in a long time. She exhaled with relief and watched as his feet disappeared into the small kitchen. She fought the urge to stand and follow him in. There was banging and then more silence.

Squeezing her eyes closed, she counted her heart beat slowly. His footsteps returned and her eyes flicked open. He held out a chunk of bread to her. He watched her with curiosity as she hesitated before she gently took it from his hand and placed it in her palm. "I can't remember exactly what happened." She admitted as she rolled the bread around her hand. "I must have fainted." She said thoughtfully as she stuck a thumb into the bread, feeling the soft texture of it.

"You do know that you eat that, right?" He said. She looked up to see him eating his own chunk and watching her hands play with the food. Her face flushed despite herself. He transfered his gaze the window behind her. "You're from the sanatarium." He declared. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Yes." She said quietly. There was a pause in which she began to panic again. "You won't take me back, will you?" She breathed out rapidly.

"It's of little concern to me what you do." He said. "I am not your guardian, your parent, or your keeper." He chewed for a second. "I am curious though. How did you get out?"

"There are passages. Secret ones that they think we don't know about. I'm not sure why they are there but they're harmless enough and they lead to all sorts of places. One leads to the cellar. It's terrifying down there. There's this misery clinging to the air and all of this equipment that I've never seen before. It's dusty and cobwebs cling to every crevice. I discovered one that leads to a little garden. It's completely run over by weeds and the stone bench is cracked and moss is growing on it. And-" She shut her mouth, realizing that she was rambling away. "then I found this one." She finished abruptly. She tore a miniscule piece of bread off and stuck it decidedly in her mouth. She chewed until it had practically evaporated in her mouth.

"None of them were blocked off? None of them were locked away?" He asked curiously. She shook her head.

"I'm sure the building is quite old." She said. "Some of the attendants probably don't even remember they are there. We aren't supposed to be able to wander around but it's easy to slip out of your cell." She paused to glance at him. His gaze was once again focused on her completely. "Well, at least it is for me. All you have to do is make sure you don't get caught." She said with a slight grin as she tapped her thin wrist with her forefinger.

She remembered when she realized she could squeeze herself through the unusually large space where the door to her cell swung open. Most of the inhabitants wouldn't have made it through but she had lost so much of the mass of her body that it only took a little effort and manuevering. The hardest part was her head and she always cried with frustration in silent tears when she got to the point where she had to find a way for her head to fit out.

"How long have you been there?" He asked.

She paused and stared at him. Thoughts flooded her mind. When she told him would he be put off? She had been there for so long. She was labeled as hopeless. Would he see her as mentally instable? "Two years." Her voice said before she could stop herself.

"Quite a long time. Do they not feed you there?" He asked as he studied her incredibly thin body.

She choked back a laugh. They were always trying to feed her. She didn't answer just returned to playing with the chunk of bread. He would never understand her desire to avoid food. No one did. They thought she was mental, crazy. They thought she was an odd, spoiled child.

----

_**Erik**_

He watched her as she rolled the bread from thin palm to thin palm, letting her thumb roll into the hole she had previously made. She sneered curiously at her lap and didn't answer his question. He was struck by the thought that she had taken no more than a bit of the bread. Her silence at the question was curious. He wanted to know why she had been at the sanatarium for two years but not enough to ask her. It was intrusive and she might be much more skittish than he'd first thought.

"It's of no matter." He said gruffly as he popped the last piece of his bread in his mouth. He chewed, thinking about how she studied the bread so intently but didn't snatch a bite. He had once gone a week without eating and when he had managed to grasp food he devoured it with a manic speed, letting his stomach expand with the nourishment that had been deprived. Here she was resisting the bread despite the way her eyes traveled across it over and over again.

"Are you going to make me leave?" She asked quietly, her voice wavering. His heart jumped. She sounded so desperate. So terrified by the thought.

"Do you have no where else to go?" He asked, determined to steer her away.

She laughed bitterly. "Where would I go? My parents'? They sent me here. I have no friends. I have no family who would not send me immediately back. I am very much alone."

"Then why did you leave?" He asked.

"Would you want to stay locked up for the rest of your life because no one understands you?" She said, turning her large brown eyes on him. He looked away embarrassed. His own memories started to flood back. Memories of bars and cruel staring people, of looks of horror. He pushed them away.

"What do you plan to do now that you escaped?" He asked frustrated. "If you have no where to go and no one to be with what do you have of a life? You cannot spend the rest of your life among nothingness."

"I-" She faltered. "I had not really thought that far." She admitted. "I don't know."

"Foolish." He said with annoyance. "Impulsive actions can lead to death. If I were to make you leave right this moment you would most certainly die."

"Will you?" She asked again.

"Not today." He decided finally. "You will think of something, somewhere you can go, however. You cannot stay with me forever."

"Why-" She cut herself off, her pale cheeks flushing slightly with blood. She looked timid and shy. She looked abandoned by everyone, including herself.

He needed to leave her. He needed to be with his thoughts now. He was suddenly saddled with someone, a mere child. Someone too weak to live on their own. He had not wanted this. He had not thought about this when he took her with him. The thought of another person living in his solitude was too much. "You may stay here for the time being." he grumbled. "I will be gone for a few hours." He declared. "There is not much to do, I'm afraid." He moved toward the door. "I'll be back." He said. He detested how it sounded like a promise. He hurried out the door, not looking back at her.

This was too sudden. This was too much. He had not wanted this at all, he was fairly sure. He had just not wanted her to die. _Why? _His mind questioned. _Why not let her die when you, yourself, have killed countless times? You weak pathetic fool. _

He shouldered off the thoughts and headed into the winding forest a few paces away from his could walk for hours and ease his thoughts. Then he would think of what to do with his new, unwanted companion.

---

A/N: So I have a fairly good idea of how I want this story to go now. I'm actually kind of excited to write each chapter and that hasn't happened since my last Phantom fic (the finished Mistress Of Song). I'm really happy now that I'm back to writing and I keep thinking about when I saw the broadway musical a few weeks ago. Oh I missed the Phantom so much! ^.^

I hope you're enjoying this so far!


	5. Chapter 5: Errors

Chapter Five: Errors

_**Elodie**_

The door shutting behind him echoed in her ears. What had she done? What had she said to make him frustrated and leave? She knew it was ridiculous to have escaped with no real plan and she knew it was absurd to expect a complete stranger to house you. Still, she had not asked to be brought here.

"Oh stop it." She told herself quietly. "You're invading his space. You're intruding upon his life. He has every right..." She crushed the bread as hard as she could in her fist. It poofed back out. She was tempted to throw it out of the window. Instead, she stood, tearing a piece off and sticking it in her mouth. She let it lie on her tongue. The taste of bread had been so foreign for so long. She spit it out into her hand and stared at it.

It was such a simple thing, a piece of bread. Why did she fight not to swallow it?

She stuck it back her mouth and chewed it slowly while walking into the kitchen. Sitting on the table, wrapped in a cloth, was the loaf of bread. She unwrapped it and set the unfinished chunk beside it before tucking the cloth around it once more. She would finish it later she told herself as she left the room. There would be time later.

_**---**_

_**Erik**_

Trees were spinning past him as he sped further away from his house. Music was clinging to his ear drums, voices were colliding in memories. After a few minutes he stopped and leaned against a tree. He breathed in deeply even though he was not out of breath.

Christine's voice was fluttering around his mind and he wanted to capture it and hold onto it. The danger in that was too enticing. Her song sent raptures of speeding heart beats in his chest, his mind soaring with images of her. Her beautiful face singing on stage, her gentle smile. He scowled and crushed them immediately.

There was no point anymore. He would never see her again.

Meanwhile he had a problem. There, sitting in his house, was another person. She was weak and fragile and determined. He didn't know if she even had enough common sense to think logically about what she would do. For all he knew she would stand the minute he came back and announce she wanted to become the Queen of Russia, that that was what she planned to do.

He shook his head. This was all too foolish. He would have to find a way to get her out of there. She certainly wouldn't do it.

---

_**Elodie **_

Some time ago, back before she had become what she was today, she had been in Paris. She had loved every second of life whirling past her, inescapable and dramatic. It was vivd and alluring. She craved the nights and days passed in life.

Now all she craved was a simple sleep. But it hid from her. She stood from the lounge once again and slowly walked toward the man's bedroom. The door was open a crack. He had only been gone an hour. She wondered how much longer he would be gone.

His room was much the way she had seen it previously. The exception was that he was not in it. The journal was lying on the ground and she kneeled to study it. His tidy scrawling handwriting looked impossible and perfect on the page. She scooped the book up and moved to the edge of the bed. She had only intened to study his elegant hand but words began to catch her attention. She flipped back to the beginning. It was marked three years ago. It was much more hurried and untidy.

_I cannot take this city anymore. Lurking in shadows so close to her but so far away...it is hell. What was I thinking? This is no plan. I know precisely where she is right this moment and I know that the outside of the building is one I've stood before at night, longing for her. She will never know. I need to rid myself of this city. _

She bit her lip and turned page after page. She quickly became obsessed with his words. She read it rapidly. One of the final entries was few words in length and it seemed so mournful.

_Her child will be born in a fortnight._

She placed a finger on the line and moved her fingertip across it. She imagined him writing it, his brow furrowed in pain. Who was this man? Who was this woman he so loved?

"What are you doing?" His voice was incredibly loud and sharp. She jumped, her heart racing beyond her. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt herself go colder still. The room had darkened, the setting sun lingered on the horizon. She stood quickly, surprised that she had not kept track of time. The book slid from her hands and landed with a loud thud on the floor. "What were you doing?" He asked again angrily.

She felt her eyes widen in fear and she tried to force something from her lips. Nothing would come out. He stood towering over her, his eyes filled with rage. Her hand flew to her chest, trying to calm her heart. He took a step toward her, his face filled with unspeakable anger. She took a staggered breath.

"What," He asked again, his voice louder. "do you think you were doing?"

"I-I-I'm sorry." She stammered. "I just-"

"Get out!" He raged. Her body was shaking violently. She could feel her weak legs about to collapse. "Get out!" He hollered as he took another menacing step toward her.

She was speechless. She had not meant for this to happen. She had just been so curious. She tried to back away from him but she hit the bed and almost toppled over. Her arms flailed momentarily and he grasped them sharply. She let out a sharp breath as his strong grip cut into her arm. He yanked her upright and pulled her toward the door. She tried to stop him but she realized that he would not have even noticed.

"I'm sorry." She sobbed as she felt tears prick her eyes. He did not respond, only pulled her across the front room and flung the front door open. "I didn't-"

"Get out!" He said again and he thrust her forward. She flew through the air, her small body easily thrown like a rag doll. She crumpled onto the ground. A sharp and jutting pain ripped through her legs and her heart beat so furiously in her chest she thought it might explode. She heard the door slam behind her and she curled onto her side and touched her knees gently. Pain shot through her body and she quickly moved her hands.

Tears were flowing from her eyes now and she cursed them. She had not meant to read it all. She had not meant to invade his privacy like that but she couldn't control herself. She had seen it and she had begun to pity the man. She had only meant to get a little information on his life. He was just so amazingly unreal to her mind. Now she had upset him and he had thrown her out. Now she was utterly alone again.

And, as usual, it was entirely her fault.

---

_**Erik**_

He was furious. He fumed, leaning heavily against the front door. His chest rose and fell in drastic movements. The door to his bed lay open wide and he raged back into his room he picked up the journal and hurled it hard at the wall.

What had he been thinking leaving her here on her own? She would of course look through things. Women were always too curious to keep away from things they shouldn't see. He muffled a rageful scream and he kicked out harshly at the chair by the desk. It went flying into the wall with a bang and he watched as it crumpled to the ground like she had.

He looked back at he bed and he could almost see himself from her view. How terrifying and monstrous he was.

_No!_ His mind scolded him. _She was in the wrong, not you._

He shook his head. There was no point right now. He needed to calm himself. He didn't want to go into a blind rage with no where to direct it. He moved through the house and flung open a cupboard. Sitting near the top was a bottle. He took it down and drank straight from it. The incredibly strong taste of absinthe snuck into the pit of his stomach and he choked back a gag. He drank more before he set it down and closed his eyes, breathing in deeply.

----

_**A day later**_

_**---**_

_**Elodie**_

She sat on the beach, staring out at the water. She wrapped her hands around her ankles and rested her head on her knees. Her stomach ached with hunger and her mouth was so dry. Her body was unbareably cold.

She had eventually forced herself to rise from the spot where he had thrown her when the sun had completely fallen. It was dark and a strong breeze was blowing off the ocean. She had staggered toward the side of the house, thinking the overgrowth of weeds on the side might by more comfortable but she could see into the kitchen from there. She had glanced in and saw him standing with his back to the window. He did not move. His was utterly still. She could not take it any longer and moved further away toward the forest.

She had not slept that night. Instead she wandered weakly between the trees. After a while the pain in her legs became too much and she sat upon the ground. That was when she realized she had just been tracing a small line directly in view of his house. She sat watching the house as if it would move until the sun rose. Then she had forced herself to rise. She had been on the beach ever since.

The sand felt coarse against her body and she scowled. She dug a hand under the grains and closed her eyes. Her stomach screamed at her and she winced. She looked about her. There was nothing for a stretch. She sat close to the rocky shore near his house. She was too afraid to wander to close to the village.

She stood warily and looked back at his house. It remained, unmoving and silent. Perhaps he had left, she thought. She felt herself crazed with hunger. It had happened once before. One of the mistresses at her boarding school had found her clinging to a statue on the roof of the building. That was when she had been sent home. Now the only thought she had was that she must eat something before she died. The tiniest bit could save her, she thought.

She walked toward the house, stopping here and there to rest her aching legs. Before she knew it she was before the house. Nothing had changed. It remained silent. She snuck around the side near the weeds. The kitchen window was open. She peered in and it was empty. Sitting on the table near the window was the bread as if it had never moved. She reached a hand in quickly and threw the cloth off. She peered anxiously into the kitchen again as she ripped off a chunk of bread and brought her hand back out, She slid against the side of the house and nibbled at the bread slowly, relief flooding her stomach.

That was when she heard movement from inside the house.

---

**A/N: **I think this chapter moved a little fast and it might be a bit OOC for Erik. I find myself transating a lot Erik's characteristics into Hannibal Lecter and the other way around. I don't know why. Sorry if it seemed rather abrupt and strange!


	6. Chapter 6: Dancing Close To Demise

Chapter Six: Dancing Close To Demise

_**Elodie**_

She wouldn't have thought it at all strange if she found her heart hammering in her chest again. The ordeal of the past few days had done nothing for her failing health. Still, she was startled by it's volume in her ears. She was certain that he could hear it from inside. It was too loud for it to go unnoticed.

She held her breath and waited. There was a definitive shuffling from within the house. She could not tell if it was moving to or away from her. She could not tell for sure if it was him. Though she doubted it could be much else.

Fear, she decided, was a potent agent in exciting her mind. She feared him in a way she had never feared anyone or anything before. There had been many chances to feel this kind of unkempt terror in her being but they had all passed uneventfully. She shivered despite herself at the mere thought of him.

Remembering his towering dark figure over her as he demanded an answer to the question of her holding his journal, she brought her legs up to her chest and hugged them to her. He had seemed inhuman in his rage. The glaring anger that bounced off of him had seemed other-wordly. She could not account for it aside from her own fantastic imagination. She had always been good at conjuring things out of thin air.

_How long will you sit here and let yourself wait? _Her mind questioned her. _Will you let _this _be the death of you?_

Be quiet! She thought to herself. What difference did any of it make anyhow? She had been starving herself for so long that there was little but death for her now. It would happen, she was sure, one way or another. What difference did it make if it were in her cell at the sanatarium or in the bedroom of her childhood or here in the weeds near a seaside cottage?

Her tiny hands balled into fists and she pushed them forcefully into her thighes. Determined to quiet her racing thoughts, she struggled to focus on the noises. It sounded weary and unsure. The urge to peek into the kitchen was overwhelming. Lucky for her she didn't think she had enough strength in her legs to lift her back up.

Suddenly melodies floated into her ears. Her eyes began to water at the thought of music. She remembered the humming her father had treated her to as a child. She remembered the gentle voice of her sister's violin playing softly in the night. She remembered operas and ballets and choirs of angels singing in her dreams. This was a tragic melody. A haunting remembrance of something too painful to speak of.

It carried her up and lifted her away from herself. She had never felt so free of her own pains. No aches bothered her. No voices screamed at her. She was floating as an observer in hurt and loss. Love. Minutes seemed to fly by as she sat squeezed as close as possible to the outter wall of that cottage. Time became unimportant as she felt her muscles relaxing of their own accord.

As soon as it had started it ended abruptly and she felt her spirit crashing back down into her body. His voice was no longer lingering around her. All there was was a gentle sob and a whisper so close she could have sworn he stood beside her: _"Christine."_

---

When night fell she let herself fall gently onto her side. The weeds were scratching her skin and she felt frustrated with everything. Silence was pressing in on her and she wondered what exactly that meant for the masked man inside.

After the startling moment of music and tears she had not heard much of anything. A shuffling of tired feet and creaks of floorboards. After hours she imagined she could hear him breathing above her if she were still enough. Ridiculous, she knew, but it eased her mind to know she was not left alone in the painful reality left by his music.

The stars were littering the sky, illuminating their mysteries upon velvet skies. She tried to conjur a smile as she recalled how, as a young girl, she had tried to reach for the stars. She had been of the belief that she could capture one, just one, and pin it under the lid of a glass jar. It could light her way through all the darkness in her life. Especially the pitch black halls of her house at night when everyone else had slipped into warm beds.

Now she could not even manage to raise her arm. Exhaustion was beating down on her and she felt her eyelids grow heavy. Sleep would be most welcome but every time she started to drift off she jerked awake in the fear that she would never wake again. Hours were spent in this routine. Every now and then hazy dreams would force their way into her mind and she would wake confused and groggy. Perhaps she had imagined everything that had happened the past years? Perhaps none of that had been true but some warning, some prophecy she could avoid as it was only self-fulling?

The stiff ground did not lie nor did the knot in her neck.

She eventually forced herself back into a sitting position. Pausing, she let her head rest against the wall for a moment. From there she hoisted herself to her feet by clinging to the wall and then the open window. Her legs were shaking and she feared her knees would buckle if she let go. "How ridiculous you are?" She said outloud. "You cannot even remember how to stand or walk!" She had not meant to speak out loud but her voice was there, intruding on the emptiness. She closed her eyes, breathing hard.

There was no noise from inside. She pondered what she could possibly do at this point. She wondered how easy it would be to die this night.

A step away from the wall allowed her to crumple back to the ground. Wet, hot tears sprang to her eyes and trailed down her frozen cheeks. Her sobs were silent, she could not muster any power to make them full of noise. This was it, she was sure. She would slip under the gentle guidance of the Higher Power and she would become no more. She would finally be free of the mistake of her body. She had no particular thoughts as she slipped into darkness.

---

_**Sunrise**_

_**Erik**_

After a night glimmering only with memories of Christine and pain as fresh as paint, he woke feeling out of place. The cottage often confused in his waking moments. It was too light. He was sure he would never get used to it. He struggled to his feet to find himself in his kitchen. His neck ached and he rubbed it absent-mindedly.

He had fallen asleep at the kitchen table, an empty bottle of liqour lay on its side. He was tempted to push it over the edge to just to hear the glass shattering upon the floor. He restrained himself and moved toward the front room. It was hauntingly empty of anything he had ever or would ever care for. It held no trace of his past life in Paris. It was a decision he had thought over long and hard. It was also a decision that proved pointless as he was positive Paris and it's siren within would haunt him until the end of his days.

Memories of the past two days slowly dawned on him and he felt a sickening wave of guilt sweep over him. The girl would be dead by now, lying somewhere alone. An innocent life he had not meant to take into his hands. He should have known that nothing could grow within the darkness of his prescence. What had ever persuaded him to bring her there had been masked evil, he was sure. He had killed her.

He exited the front door and stood for a moment staring out at the ocean. It seemed gray and mists swirled off the shore. It would be a rainy day. The sun was shining meagerly from behind thick, dark clouds. He wanted to wait for the first heavy drops to fall on his face but he went around the side of his house, intending to circle it once or twice just for peace of mind. The weeds, he knew, were overgrown around the kitchen-side of the house. He intended to go there last. It seemed like the short trip around the house was longer than it should have been and by the time he could spot the first sign of weeds he didn't feel the strength to continue. A breeze behind him compelled him forward and he turned the corner to spot her.

She lay curled into herself, her arms wrapped close to her body. Her knees hovered just below her chin. Her dress seemed a limp blanket over a deathly thin frame. He hesitated for a moment before his booted feet carried him closer. He kneeled, his powerful legs holding him upright as he studied her weak limbs. He listened intently but could hear no slight sound of breathing. His heart thumped once, painfully, in his chest. His fingers found their way to her wrist and neck, struggling to find some beating of a heart.

He was surprised when he felt it tap gently against his fingertips. It was faint but present. Her lips looked bluer than when he had last seen her and her face seemed more gaunt. He wondered how it was possible for her to have lost even more weight. The memory of food she had denied herself before he had thrown her out entered his mind guiltily.

He scooped her up in his arms and was not surprised to find she weighed less than he remembered. Whether this was his own failing memory or her own decreasing weight he was not sure. Her limbs swayed gently as he moved toward the front door of the house. He stopped once as he thought he had seen her eyelids fluttering but it had been a trick of the eye. She remained faithfully unaware of anything.

He entered the front room and moved past the lounge. The bed, he decided, was warmer and would be more comfortable until he could find something to wake her. He lay her upon the bed and watched with slight curiosity as it did not sag under her weight as it did his own. She did not stir. Her sleep was an unfamiliar one to him. The quilts he tucked around her body seemed endless in their length. The pillows he piled around her seemed to swallow her whole. He stood back and was struck by the fact that all he could see was a tiny, bony face sticking out among fabrics.

Her jawline was angular. Her lips were thin and blue. Her cheekbones were high and her eyes were sunken. She looked like death slumbering in his bed. He studied her gently with his gaze. He fancied the idea that one look too powerful would crush her. It took a good time before he could tear himself away from her in order to slink toward the village in search of answers.

---

_**Elodie**_

Everything was an unclear mess of colors and motions. Blues and purples and red merged together and splashes of green burst into scenes and disappeared as rapidly. Outlines of forms were fragments on the line of her vision. She felt as if she could hear voices but every time she stopped to listen intently nothing met her ears.

She was wandering away from herself and nothing seemed as it should. She could feel cold and taste a bitterness in her mouth. Her tongue felt so dry that it would crumple into ash at any second. She imagined her skin was peeling away in motions and her bones were creaking towards something she could not see nor feel. Her spirit fought to stay behind but nothing was as determined as her body, the body she had so long despised for its unspeakable desire for life.

She could not feel much but she knew that she was crying yet again as she fought over herself. Her body began to ache, her teeth began to clench together. Her fingers became more evident and she could not stop the shivering. She could feel each disc in her spine being touched and each knobby point of bone being embraced with a dim warmth. It fled as soon as it touched her. She wondered if she were drowning in the light of Heaven. Would this be the worst? Would this be when her ultimate fate was decided?

She prayed her bdy would numb itself again because the pain was intensifying with each passing moment. Images were becoming sharper around her and jagged realities were crushing her. She wanted to scream but she could not force the sound from her throat. She was silently dying and she could not do a damn thing. This was not as she had thought it would be. Death was supposed to be a sweet release, a gentle end to a short life of self-induced hardships. A coward's way out that allowed her to finally feel peaceful in her spirit, free of that earthly shell that contained and trapped her.

Sounds began flooding her and she felt her mind begin to go crazy. She did not understand. This was not right at all. Voices were screaming at her.

Her mother's: "Elodie! Elodie! You foolish child! You are so _stupid_! Eat! Eat, damn it!"

Her father's: "Elodie, my child, please." His tears were landing on her cheeks, her sharp shoulder bones, her intensely detailed collarbone. "You cannot go on like this."

Her sister's: "Why must you be so selfish? Do you not see what you're doing to mama? To papa. For Christ's sake, Elodie! You're not a child anymore. Quit acting like one and grow up!"

Her doctor's: "I am sorry. I have never encountered this before. I don't know what is wrong with her...There isn't much we can do, I'm afraid. Send her to a sanatarium. It is the best option. They can deal with her current state of insanity."

Her dear friend, Cassandra's: "Ellie, Ellie, Ellie! What? Dance with me. Everything is better when you dance. Move. I hate that you don't move at all. Pointless to get out of that cell really if you just sit forever."

Her own: _**You ruin everything. You've ruined your mother's love and your father's heart. You've ruined social standing and family status. You've ruined countless meals and pointedly stuck your nose up. And for what? You ruin everything anway. They were never happy with you. They never will be! You do your best to push everyone a distance from you. Just like I taught you. Even that strange man. Oh I know what you felt. You disgust me. You sicken me. You really are not strong enough to attain anything close of pity yourself. You ruin everything and now you've given up? Well that suits me fine. I can win this out for us.**_

Noises were becoming more persistant. Music broke in among the babbling voices of her past. The colors began to swirl together until she could see the color of pain and it amused her. It shifted under her look, never remaining the same. It was mystical and wild, like a beast.

Waves of feeling crashed hard into her body and she could feel each hit send her flying through space and time. Each landing was loud and sent searing pains through her entire being.

Her eyes flew wide open in a startled expression and a single, terrifying scream leapt from her mouth and shattered the room around her. It held onto her lungs until her eyes rolled back into her head and she fell back into a peaceful sleep.

---

**A/N: Reviews at this point would be very nice. I don't know exactly if Erik is getting out of character. I've already written the next chapter but after that I'm not sure how far I should go with this. Reviews on that next chapter would be extremely appreciated as I've gotten a bit stuck. Thank you!**


	7. Chapter 7: The Hush Of Fellows

**A/N: This was a quick update because I already had this written. Enjoy!**

Chapter Seven: The Hush Of Fellows

_**Erik**_

A few days passed in awkwardness. He watched as her body and mind struggled to decide which realm to belong in. He had been terribly startled when she had flown up from her unmoving sleep, her eyes wide open and fearful, her mouth letting out a shrill and agonizing scream. He had paused, caught completely unaware and by the time he understood what was happening she had faded back into unconsciousness.

The second day he had filled the pathetic excuse for a bath with steaming hot water and had only paused long enough to decide to leave her clothes on. He watched her body sink briefly under the water as he kept her head afloat. She had woken for a moment, her foggy eyes studying him for answers. She fell asleep as she sat in the tub. She awoke again as he stripped the sopping dress off of her form but she seemed unaware of what was taking place. He stifled his own embarrassment long enough to slip her in a thick wool shift he had bought from a woman near the edge of the Western edge of the village.

Four times a day he stirred a thick and heavy broth and carried it to her. He gently forced her awake for long enough to drink a substantial amount. The second time he had done this she had kept her eyes open and the minute he had turned his back she had slumped over the edge of the bed and threw it up upon the floor. He had been amazed at her determination. She had let her head fall back into the pillows, a thin line of red blood trickling down her lip.

She had not denied herself the broth since then and had drank as much as she could before she closed her eyes again.

The eighth day he felt himself growing slightly weary of the routine. The lounge was stiff under his body and his back was sore from the uncomfortable positions he had flailed into throughout the night. He often forced his eyes open to check on his sleeping patient. She had not seemed to change much throughout the week. This day, when the sun rose, he ate his own breakfast before fumbling his way into her room.

Her eyes were closed but her lips had gained back a bit more of a human color. She had almost completely stopped her violent shivering in her sleep. She seemed a little stronger each time he woke her. He could see the contempt for the broth on her face every second it passed down her throat and into her stomach. Even as close to death he could see that she wanted to refuse the food.

He did not understand and he did not want to. He would force her to drink it if he had to. She would not die now that she was recovering from her deathly encounter. He would not allow it to happen.

He was not entirely positive when it happened but one morning he went in to find her wide eyes open. A small, weak grin was on her face. She attempted to raise a hand wearily but she could not quite get it up and let the frustration show on her face. He felt a pang of sympathy but it passed when her eyes shot quickly to the large bowl of broth he carried. He could see revulsion growing in her eyes. "You will drink it." He demanded. She did not refuse but she gave him resentful looks the rest of the day. This was when he decided he would keep her with him for as long as he could.

He did not know why he cared for her suddenly the way he did. It was not the deep and aching love he felt for Chrisitine. Still, it was tender fondness that had fostered in his heart towards the dying woman. She needed him still and if he relented and gave her the chance to leave he was sure she would perish. There was something striking about caring for someone that he had never experienced. Even though he did not know her name, nor she his, he felt as if he had known her for an eternity. Just by the oddities of her nature, she was distinct in his mind. She clung to his sanity in a way only Christine had.

Feelings were foreign to Erik. He suspected they always would be but this feeling didn't feel so conclusive as his love for his soprano had. It felt less desparate and he knew that no anguish could come of it unless she allowed herself to die beneath his care. It was as if they were silent companions. He had never loved silence so much.


	8. Chapter 8: A Child Was Born

Chapter Eight: A Child Was Born

_**Time lapsed**_

_**Elodie**_

The sun was shining through the windows and playing upon the quilts covering her. She wanted to capture a beam of warmth and place it upon her frozen body. Buried beneath so much fabric she was startled to find that she was still cold. It seemed to linger in her bones.

The morning was fading away and she was aware that he had not come to her as was their unspoken agreement. Hours had passed and she could feel herself growing anxious. Change was unfamiliar to her and she did not want anything to do with it.

The house was silent and this, too, bothered her to no end. She forced herself into a sitting position. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Her legs swung over the edge of the bed and her feet met the ground rather frimly. She forced herself to stand, swaying lightly for a moment. She grasped the lightest quilt she could find among the many and wrapped it around her.

The door creaked open into the front room which was empty. The kitchen was empty as well. Outside she could hear cold air beating against the house. She hesitantly opened the front door and stood in the doorway, her bare feet freezing by the moment.

The ocean was still there. She couldn't place exactly what about this was so surprising. She shivered and closed her eyes. The sound of feet crunching on the ground hit her eardrums and she prayed silently that it was him and not some new strange person. She was too terrified to open her eyes.

"What are you doing?" He asked abruptly. Her eyes flickered open lazily. He stared down at her with slight confusion and concern.

"I could ask the same of you." She said, speaking for the first time in weeks. Her voice sounded odd to her ears, as if it did not quite belong to her. He stood, studying her with his eyes, the white mask across half of his face.

"Get inside." He ordered. She did not resist. She would not have even if she had the strength. Inside he led her back to the room where he put her back in the bed and covered her back. She was slightly aware of the delicacy with which he did it.

"I won't break." She said as she stared at him.

"I am not so sure." He turned away from her and left the room. There was banging in the kitchen and she knew he was making the broth. She detested it. Not for the nutrition it provided but for the thick consistency and the strong taste. She quickly threw herself from the bed, pausing only slightly when the world spinned around her as she stood too quickly.

She shuffled into the kitchen and slid into a chair to watch turned and his eyes lit on her with surprise. He did not say a word but continued to glance at her disapprovingly. She surpressed a smirk from crossing her face. "Where were you?" She asked again.

"The village." He supplied simply as he continued to work.

"I doubt it takes all morning and half the afternoon." She felt rather chipper now that she was out of the bed. "What were you doing?"

"Pestering." He said with annoyance as he stirred the liquid he was preparing.

"Unbareably hilarious." She assured him sarcastically. "What were you doing?" She tried again. He did not answer her, only continued his work. Once he was done he set the bowl in front of her and dug himself out a piece of bread. "Thank you." She said as she looked into the broth. "For what you've done." She added.

He was silent for a moment too long and she began to feel anxiety take root. "You are welcome." He said, his deep voice full of unsung melodies. She had never noticed little things about him before. Now that she felt more herself again she could grasp those things for her memory. "Your name is Elodie Papillion. You are the daughter of Robert and Sophie Papillion who reside in the Northern reigon of Brittany. This is all I could find out before I became too suspicious for the villagers." He sat opposite her stiffly as if he were not much used to being with people.

"Bravo." She said dully as she brought a spoon of the broth to her mouth. Her heart thudded in her chest. She was certain he was not telling her all that he had found out. He was wary of her now because he found her as insane as she indeed was. He did not speak and this did nothing to calm her mind. "It's hardly fair." She stumbled over her words. "I mean to say that it's not right that you should know my name but I should not know yours." She blinked at the soup as if she had been conversing with it instead.

Her legs were growing numb and she wanted to hide back into the bed. How foolish she had been to try to be normal. She was not normal in the least.

---

_**Erik**_

He was intent on the bread in his hand. It traveled from his fingers to his mouth in small doses as if he were too occupied to eat like a normal person would. Elodie was now full of thoughts, he knew. She wanted his name and what could he give her? A false name that would separate them forever? He didn't want that but he was cautious to give out his name. It linked him so forcefully to her. He was not ready for that, he was sure.

He glanced up to see her staring into her broth. Her lips were quivering and he was aware of the lack of color in her face. She looked up, her eyes filled with uncertainty. She seemed worried that she had spoken at all. "Erik." He said after another second's thought. He watched her face flood with relief and a small smile broke out across her thin lips.

"Erik." She repeated gently. "I'm tired." She announced quietly as she tried to stand from the table. He rose too quickly and she glanced up with surprise. His heart beat rapidly in his chest. He had not meant to move so fast. He was worried he would set her tiny heart off in a panic and she would collapse. He was always aware that his towering figure and masked face held something of a monster for all who saw him.

He could not force an apology from his lips as he was far too embarrassed to manage one. Instead he slowly manuevered around the table and held out a hand to her. She slipped her bony one in his and he helped her to her feet. She seemed capable of walking at first but her pace slowed significantly. He looked back to see her face full of worry. He moved without thinking, sweeping her off of her feet and craddling her in his arms. She made to protest but relented and lay her head on his shoulder as he carried her the remainder of the way into the room.

The fragile creature nestled into the bed without another thought and he watched over her until she slept. From there he returned to the kitchen where he pulled out a tattered Paris newspaper. It had been ruined and he was angry about this. It would difficult enough to read now.

He carefully pried pages apart, letting them fall upon the table. His eyes lit upon her name the second the page was unearthed. It was a small announcement, nothing much. Christine de Chagny, formerly Daae, had given birth to a healthy son the previous night. The son, the first of Raoul de Chagny's children, was to be named for his father.

Erik stared at the page for a long time. Eventually he did not even see it. It was just a gathering of words. There was nothing much to see in it anymore. It was over now. There was no possible way for him to hold out hope. He had continued to conjure excuses to hold onto Christine for as long as possible. She had married Raoul. She had given birth to his son. What more could Erik find to hold onto her.

The answer was simple. He could feel it in his heart. He loved her.

---

_**Elodie**_

The moonlight was foreign to her. She had slept so soundly for so many nights that when she awoke around midnight she was startled. She had thought it was her own mind that woke her at first. She tried to calm herself back into sleep but it was useless. From outside of the room that Erik had given up for her she could hear a gentle sobbing.

She felt her heart ache instantly. He was crying. She could not imagine him doing so. He was strong and mystical in his features. He was a creature of lore, she was sure. Men like him did not _cry_. Still, there was no other possible explanation for it. His sobs were quiet as if he were hoping to stifle them. There was no light on underneath the door. She knew he was lying on the lounge.

Alone.

She despised pain. She hated being along even more. She could not fathom what his pain felt like for she did not know for what he cried. His were a mournful sort that pierced at her soul. It sounded endless in its entirety, as if he would sob every night for the remainder of his life. In secret so not a soul would know he ached for something, for someone.

Sitting up was easier now. She was on her feet somewhat cautiously. The door fell open lightly under her hand. He had not shut it completely when he had last checked on her. His form was hunched over the lounge. He had not appeared to hear the door. She moved silently.

A single sob escaped before her skeletal hand reached his shoulder. He was startled, she knew. He spun abruptly and lashed out immediately. The tears were thick on his face and what she saw was an incredible sadness. His hand flew to his face from the moment he had stood. It covered a place where his mask had once been.

His sobs still tried to fight their way out but his eyes were filled with anger and distrust. She took a step back cautiously, unprepared to fight the beast that welled within him. "Erik." She said gently, as melodically as her raspy voice could let her. "Erik, please."

His eyes were wild for a moment as his fear was etched on his face. He turned from her as abruptly as he had risen. "Please." He managed. "Leave me."

She did not move. His body heaved in a silent sob as he waited for her disappear back into her own darkness. Instead she went into the kitchen. It was dark but she could feel around the cabinets. She found the bread. She moved past it. A bottle clanged against another as her fingers smacked into it.

She pulled it down and studied the label by the dim moonlight. It was liquor.

When she returned to him the mask was back in its place. She fought the urge to rip it off with her weak hands and instead handed him the bottle. He took it gently and looked at it as he placed it in his lap. Sitting beside him was somewhat of a dangerous move, she gathered, but she attempted to anyway. She managed by sidling up against the side of the lounge and sliding down a bit rest with a hint of space between his firm body and her own frail skeletal form.

They sat in silence. She had decided not to press him for answers when a sob broke through his strong exterior yet again. He turned his face away from her quickly, ashamed by his emotions. Her hand steadily found his knee. It was full under her hands, a piece of human anatomy that would show his strength. She stifled feelings in her head that grew foggy and patted it gently.

"I starve myself." She said quietly, as a show of confidence. "I don't know why. I just know everything hurts less when I don't eat. My pangs for a life unbecoming of a lady can die out slowly that way." She ended. She hoped he could understand she was offering it as a way for him to see she trusted him. She wished he would do the same for her. Minutes ticked by. She removed her hand feeling foolish.

She was on the verge of rising and returning to bed when his voice lit the room with its sorrow. "I love a woman who will not ever have me." He said with a struggle. "I offered her my world, my heart, and soul. It was not much, I knew, but my love was strong. She is a mother tonight."

Elodie let a hand rise to her lips. She touched them briefly. She placed a hand upon his broad back and leaned her head upon his shoulder. "I am sorry." She said as she felt her eyes grow increasingly heavy. "I am so sorry."

---

_**A/N: Please, I beg of you, tell me what you think of this chapter honestly. I am not sure I believe it myself. It seems too rushed perhaps? Thank you!**_


	9. Chapter 9: Into the Wooden Past

Chapter Nine: Into the Wooden Past

_**Erik**_

He woke much as he had for the past month. The ache in his back was persistant and his neck was unbareably sore. He shifted uncomfortably and looked at the ceiling in hopes of some explanation. He moved his legs to quickly and the sound of a glass bottle clinking against the wooden floor sounded in the room. \

This is when he realized that Elodie had curled herself under his arm. Her tiny body was wrapped in a quilt and Her head rested precariously on his side. Her eyes were closed, the eyelashes looking frighteningly long on her face. She looked peaceful in sleep.

He supressed a sigh and leaned his head back. The event of the last night flooded into his mind and he was quite ashamed of how open he had been with her. She had no need to know of Christine. He had no need to let her know about her. Why he had, he couldn't figure out. He had been perfectly content to watch over her in silence. Now it was all ruined.

He had to share something with her and ruin everything. She would know think they were friends. That they could talk openly about anything. He would not do it. He could not. It was not in his nature to be so normal. He had never been chatty in his life and he had no desire to become so. Yet she was a young woman. It would be in her nature.

He rose, gently freeing himself from her unclaiming position. She let herself fall onto the lounge completely. Her eyes never flickered. She snuggled as close as she could to the fabric of the cushion.

He shook his head and quietly moved into his bedroom. He had not thought of it as his own room for so long. The bed was covered in all of the quilts he possessed. Other than that it appeared as barren as the rest of the house. There were no traces of himself. He sat cautiously on the edge of the bed and put his face in his hands.

For the first time since he had started to nurse Elodie back to health he wanted her gone. He wanted to mourn Christine privately. He wanted to leave the entire country. He wanted no human contact. It was unrealistic, he knew. He had given into his desire for any form of companionship and now Elodie could not be sent out on her own. Not yet, in any case.

He would have to endure her presence and mask his own despair. For the time being he had no choice.

---

_**Elodie**_

Routines of waking had been fairly concrete up until that morning. She would wake every day in his bed, buried under heavy sheets and mismatched quilts he had scrounged together. Her head would rest softly on pillows and she would feel peaceful for a moment. The waking moment was usually quickly ruined by the ache in her body. It was constant and never disappeared.

He would knock gently on the door and push it open, holding a bowl of broth. She would grimace. He would reply with a stern look as if to say that she had no choice in the matter. She would drink. She would rest again.

Today things were different.

She woke on the lounge. Confused, she remained unmoving. The slightest change sent her mind into a torrent of thoughts. It took her more than moment to remember the past night. After he had confessed of his love having beared a child, she had tried her best to console him without pushing him to tell her more. She had felt overwhelmed by emotions and so incredibly tired. She had managed to stay awake for a bit longer before she feell asleep, leaning against him.

He had obviously woken earlier or had left her on the lounge at some point in the night. She sat, her limbs shaky. The full bottle of liqour she had given him was lying on its side on the floor.

She stiffled the urge to call out his name. Now that something so personal had passed between them she felt out of place and uncertain about where they stood. He did not seem to be an open person. She herself was usually closed off to anyone.

She leaned over, peering into the bedroom. She could see him sitting on the bed, craned over. His face was hidden in his hands. He remained unmoving for many minutes. Terror pierced her. She didn't know what to do in this situation. The light of day made everything too real. She could not hide in the shadows of night. She could not hide her own fears. The light made everything so much more personal.

He saved her the trouble of calling to him when he looked up. He took notice of her staring at him. Her face felt flushed and she leaned back immediately. She held her breath as she heard him stand. His entry into the room was strong, as he usually was. She took his cue and decided to pretend that nothing had happened last night.

"Would you like your breakfast now?" He asked. His voice sounded awkward and she tried to hide her relief. He, too, did not what to do.

She nodded her head even though she did not want any more broth. She followed him loyally into the kitchen and sat perched on the edge of a chair as he began to work.

"It seems a pleasant day today." She croaked unexpectedly. He glanced at her over his shoulder before nodding silently. She squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head. _What a stupid thing to say, _her mind yelled at her. "Do you have any plans today?" She asked again, cursing herself for being so stupid.

He stopped and turned to face her. His dark eyes studied her intensely for a moment. She noted a slight twitch of his lips before he shook his head and turned away from her. She pinched at her thigh and exhaled slowly. "Are you ever going to speak again?" She asked abruptly.

"Of course." He said. His voice sounded empty. She detested it.

This new change that had come over him was awful. He was more distant than ever. He seemed to want to keep a cordial front up but have no contact with her what so ever. Frustrated, she glared at his strong back. "I don't think I'm really that hungry." She said airly as she turned to stare out the window.

"You are." He said in a monotone voice.

"The news is still bothering you." She said with the sudden decision to make him acknowledge what had happened the past night. "Don't deny it."

"It is of no consequence to you." He said rudely.

She snorted and smiled wryly. "No, of course not."

She sat in silence while he worked. When he had finished and placed it before her she stared at it. She did not move the spoon that rested below the surface. She did not blow on it to cool it off. She left it sitting there, determined to not let a drop enter her mouth.

"You are hungry." He said. "Eat it."

"It is of no consequence to you." She retorted as she eyed him evenly. She winced at his narrowing glare.

"Suit yourself." He said as he stood and swept the bowl away from her. She thought he was going to set it somewhere away from her but instead, in a rapid motion, he flung it at the kitchen wall. The bowl broke and clattered to the ground. Broth dripped down the surface. He did not speak or look at her. He just moved past her. She heard the front door slam shut. She sat, unmoving.

---

The afternoon was quiet. He had not returned to the house and she began to worry that she had crossed a line and irritated him. She had managed to find her old clothes and slip them on. She had tried to do something with her hair but it was of little use. It had not been combed in such a long time. It was matted and tangle beyond repair.

She decisively decided she would go out front and look at the ocean. She hoped it would clear her mind a bit. When she pulled the front door open and stepped carefully out she had not expected to see him leaning against the side of the house. His arms were folded over his chest firmly. His eyes were closed.

She paused before trying to back silently into the house. "What are you doing?" His voice cut across her. She looked at him nervously. His eyes were not facing her but were staring out at the distance of the ocean.

"I wanted to see the ocean." She admitted.

"Do not let me stop you."

"Erik," She began. She faltered quickly over his name. Speaking it sent little shivers down her spine. He did not respond to his name. She gathered her courage back up. "I am sorry for earlier."

She leaned in the doorway, studying him. He did not look at her. "I have a temper that you have seen. Perhaps you should remember that as I cannot promise I can control it." He said. She nodded.

"Could we go for a walk?" She asked timidly. For the first time he turned to look at her. She felt her body calming under his steady gaze. He was not scrutinizing her for answer, simply observing her. It sent waves of feelings over her. She decided she would settle with the calmness.

---

_**Erik**_

He studied her intently. For such a weak person, she seemed confident of her presence. She leaned absent-mindedly upon door frame. He was struck by the way in which she look to him. Her large eyes did not waver until he sought out her eyes. She glanced downward, her head unmoving. She had training, he was sure. She had been taught to maintain pride. She had been told that she was better than creatures like him. She could behave as she wanted.

"I do not think that would be for the best." He answered her at long last.

She cocked her head to the side and placed a hand on her bony hip. The gesture was unknowingly feminine. He could see her being quite the coquette if she were healthier. "I am strong enough, I think." She supplied as she licked her lips.

"You did not eat this morning."

"I could eat a bit of bread." She offered again. "Please, Erik. I just want to leave this place for a bit." Her eyes were pleading now. He could feel his stance against it start to crumble. His weakness was obvious. A simple look from her and he felt guilty for having kept her locked up for so long.

"Eat as much bread as I give you and we may for a bit." He watched a smile grace her lips. "Not far." He added. She nodded her head enthusiastically.

"Of course." She said. He moved from his position and waved his arm to get her back inside of the house. She smiled still, as she moved lightly back inside. He struggled not to smile lightly as she moved airly and happily before him into the kitchen. Her burst of energy was childlike and sprite-like. It was a mysterious thing, this creature he had been taking care of.

---

_**Elodie**_

She ate the bread he placed before her with some difficulty. It had seemed a small feat when she had agreed but the solidness of the food before her was daunting. She nibbled slowly, tearing small pieces off of the bread. She used both hands to bring it to her mouth to chew bits off. He did not express annoyance at her pace. In fact, he did not do much of anything. He watched her and did not say a word as she ate.

It bothered her, being watched eating. She wanted to say so but did not want to make him uncomfortable. When she had finished she tried her best to smile at him. Her stomach felt full and bloated and she wanted to purge herself of it. She could feel her body moving sluggishly. And she waved off a wave of pain that hit her stomach. "Are you ready?" He asked. She nodded as she tried to fight off the voice screaming in her head.

_What are you doing? Get rid of it! Get rid of it now! You'll get sick. You'll get huge. You can already feel how heavy it is making your body. Get it out this minute!_

He lead the way out and around the edge of the house. The woods loomed ahead and she tried not to stumbled over her own feet. He paused at the first tree to allow her to catch up. She was panting by the time she had reached him. His eyes were worried as he peered down at her. She shook her head and tried to brush off every feeling that was shaking her.

"We will not go far." He said again as he started to move slowly. "Be careful for roots." She nodded and trained her eyes on the ground. She moved behind him silently, picking out upraised pieces of trees that wanted to send her sprawling to the ground. They walked for what felt like an eternity before he stopped and look back at her. "Your face is pale." He noted.

"Yes, it is." She said with annoyance as she placed a hand over her heart.

"Paler than usual." He corrected as he watched her.

"Can we sit?" She asked. "Just for a moment."

"A little further." He said with decision. She nodded and followed him a few more minutes forward. She had not realized they had broken out into a clearing until he had stopped. She had almost run into the back of him, surprised by the abrupt ending. The sun was shining pleasantly on the ground that was covered with a light whisper of tall grass. Near the edges were boulders. She did not wait for his say so and readily leaned against one and slid to the ground.

She was not aware of his figure kneeling before her until he spoke. "Elodie, are you alright?" She jumped and stared up at him.

"Yes." She said too quickly. His eyes pierced her. "I just need a little rest." He nodded and stood. She sat in silence. She was growing sick of it. Silence. That was all that was around him. It shouldn't be, she decided. "How did you meet her?" She asked suddenly, not caring about his response.

He was silent further. She closed her eyes, knowing he would not answer.

"In Paris." He said finally. "She was an opera singer. A wonderful soprano. Beautiful."

"What happened?" She pressed further.

He did not answer. She let it drop and focused on her old dress.

"I miss Paris." She said after a moment. "I spent a year or so there. Boarding school. I loved it. I've never been in love with anyone but I think I would feel like I do about Paris. Do you miss it?" He shook his head.

"There is nothing there for me."

"There is always something there for everyone." She said. "The city does not ban you because your love can no longer be yours. Besides," She rambled on, unthinking. "women leave their husbands frequently these days. Even with children. It could be possible-"

"No." He said with frustration. "It could not."

"How do you know?" She fought back.

"It just could not. You do not understand."

"Than help me to."

"It is nothing that concerns you. You admitted yourself that you have never loved anyone. How could I begin to describe it to someone who has never known the pain of such a thing."

"She seems to have caused you nothing but heartache and rejection. Give her up." She said angrily. She did not know what caused this feeling of hatred in her stomach. She had a strong distaste for it. She felt bitter and resentful of this woman and of Erik.

He turned on her, his voice rising dangerouly. "You know nothing of it. Nothing! Do not speak of her as if you do." He snarled. She glared at him, trying to quell the shaking in her limbs.

"I do not need to know her to know what she has done to you. It is evident in your every action. In the way you speak. In the way you hide from me. From yourself. Do you even have a vision of self outside of your love for her?" She rose from her spot, her body shaking with anger.

"Don't speak of her!" He shouted. "What do you know of feeling? Of love? What do you know of being a monster and having it shown to you again and again?" He was screaming at her now. "You know nothing of solitude. You know nothing of my life. You are a selfish child. You know only your own life, you're own thougts! Christine is not the monster you try to paint her to be. You know nothing of her. You know nothing of the pain I have caused her."

She stared at him, seething. "Perhaps you are a monster. If this is how you treat a friend-"

"You are no friend of mine." He snarled viciously.

She breathed in deeply. They stared at each other, rage flowing between them. "And I would not attempt to be ever again." She spat. She spun away from him quickly and pushed her way back into the woods.

Tears were springing to her eyes and she fought them off. She had no clue of where she was going. She just felt a hollow sadness gnawing at her. She wanted to be rid of it. She wanted to throw it off. It clung to her, persistant. It pressed itself into every molecule of her being.

She stopped, leaning heavily against a tree. Her breath was harsh and she could feel her legs shaking fiercely underneath her. She buckled over and allowed herself to be sick at the base of the tree, the bread of earlier rising from her system. Leaving her gloriously empty once more.

---

_**Erik**_

The regret pressed into him the moment he saw the hurt etched onto her face. Her large eyes were filled with sadness and she had fled from him before he had a chance to gather himself.

His defenses were still high. He could not bare to speak of Christine. He could not bear to remember what had drove her from him. He could not bear to think of how she had truly loved Raoul and would not have ever chosen him. Elodie knew none of this. She was curious. He knew she had been. Their short past together had proved that.

He stood, trying to even his moods. It was a desparate attempt to calm himself before he went after her. She had no idea of where she was going. He knew he had to find her before she became lost.

The woods were too silent at first and this worried him. Than he heard her sobbing. It was distant but not so far away. She was loud and this allowed him to find her easily. He came upon her and caught her completely unaware. He grew aware of the scene before him. Her weak body was curled over, her knees digging into the ground, her back curled over. He could see the first hints of her spine above the back of the dress she wore. Vomit was plastered to the base of the tree before her. The smell was overhwelming. She sobbed wihtout hesitation.

He moved carefully. "Elodie." He said silently. She spun around too quickly and almost tipped over. Her eyes were filled with fear. He noted the blood the covered her mouth. He moved to reach for her but she flung herself back against the tree.

"Don't you touch me." She hissed inbetwen sobs. He lowered his arm.

"Something is wrong." He said as his eyes remained trained on the red liquid uon her lips and dribbling down her chin.

"How would you know?" She hissed again. "This happens all the time."

"Elodie, I'm sorry." He said slowly. "Please, come to me."

She shook her head fiercely, tears streaming down her face silently. Her hands were pressed into her stomach.

"I cannot bear to speak about her." He said quietly. "I cannot."

She did not respond. She only brought a hand to her mouth and swiped at the blood. It was transfered to her palm. She stared at it, transfixed by the sight of it. "Elodie, please. Come to me." She looked up, her eyes filled with worry. She did not move but she did not scream at him. "This happens often?" He asked as he took a slow step toward her. She did not answer, her face was twisted with some feeling he couldn't name. He took another small step in her direction. "I have not seen this happen before." I had said idly as he closed the space between them.

She willingly collapsed into his arms. Her blood stained hand curled around the back of his neck. He grasped her to him. "It hurts." She said almost silently as he lifted her up into his arms.

"I know." He said to fill the silence. "It will be alright." He said as soothingly as he could. She looked up at him and he could see that she trusted him. He wished she wouldn't.

He carried her back home, talking to her all the way.


	10. Chapter 10: Push And Pull

Chapter Ten: Push And Pull Of A Scorpion And A Tidal Wave

_**Erik **_

He glanced over his shoulder in the single mirror in the house. He had brought it in after Elodie had started eating again. It had been on a whim and he had never been certain that it had been a good move. Neither person in the house seemed fond of it.

The back of his neck was stained with the dry blood. The white shirt was no longer crisp and clean but contained fingerprints of her identity pressed into it gently. She tossed and turned in the bed and mumbled in her uneasy sleep.

The continual battle between the two was growing tiresome. He pulled away and she pushed herself forward onto him. He longed to avoid conflict but she seemed to crave it. It was a strange dance they did. He could not understand her. He had never rushed headlong into uncertain rejection. He had never found favor in being told of his faults. They stung him daily. He withdrew from people to save himself the pain.

Elodie was different. She threw herself against it, as if she hoped to be strong enough to smother it out. She drew herself into the chaos of an arguement and let the pain crash into her. She seemed to crave the moment when her faults were thrown at her. She seemed to crave this kind of rejection. It was as if she wanted to try and be told she would never be good enough.

What a demanding and hauntingly painful life she chose.

The two of them, he knew, could never find harmony for long. He wanted to be left alone with his agony. He did not want her getting any closer than she already was. She was fascinated by him. She seemed to be pulled into his orbit without any effort on his part. She was interested, he felt, in his friendship. This was too much. He had learned that he could live life lonely.

The destruction that came with taking such a chance was all the warning he needed to avoid Elodie. She would not let him be. As he watched her sleep he wondered what it was she saw in him that made her think he was fit to be any sort of companion.

---

_**Elodie**_

Candles glimmered in the darkness. Her dreams was filled with hazy smoke. She quickly realized that it was a fog drifting off of a body of water. The candle light reflected in the dark, crashing water. It lapped upon the stone ledge she stood on.

In this mirror world she could see the cavernous reaches of the room she was in. It was dark and lonely. She imagined it was likely underneath some building. A secret little place where someone lived, hidden from the world. She could see a gate far across the space, it's bars rusted from the constant water.

An organ played in the recess of time and space. It hung on the damp and stale air. It bounced off the stone ceilings and walls and crashed into the water.

She looked into the water, searching for answers. She knew they were in there somewhere, just out of her view. A soprano's voice soared next to the organ and she felt her heart thump rapidly as images began to appear in the underground lake below her.

A female figure stood, cloaked in a white dress of lace and detail. Her dark hair was curled and arranged neatly around her smale pale face. Her face looked flushed. It took Elodie a moment to realize it was stage make-up. Her face held sorrow and a lack of trust.

Across from her stood a man. His figure was tall. His body was dressed in a billowing white shirt, his black pants were wet from the waist up. The shirt was open revealing his chest. His build was handsome and strong. It was familiar in some way. His face was covered by darkness at first. She was unsure of why this was. Slowly it began to lighten and what she saw sent terror flying through her mind.

His face was deformed. The left side of his face was riddled with scars that had healed unevenly. It was sensitive and red. The uneven surface of his face gave way to a face she knew very well. The right side, free of this horrible mask was the face of Erik. Her Erik. His black hair was a frenzy of unmanaged strands. He looked old and defeated as a whole.

Elodie could feel her heart break a little as she took this in.

This could not be _her _Erik. It was just a dream. Nothing more. She stared at him until the water broke like the cracking of a glass mirror being hit with force. The illusion shattered and Elodie found herself falling into the blackness that was underneath. It was endless and she quickly lost sight of anything.

---

_**Erik**_

He was standing above her when she opened her eyes. For a moment she winced at the sight of him and he made to draw back. She calmed after a second and let her sleep-filled eyes gaze at him gently. "Do you need anything?" He asked, suddenly filled with an attentiveness he had felt for no one but this young woman.

"No." She managed weakly. Her voice was distant, quiet, and strained. "Erik." She said as she raised a sad hand in the air. He reached out and caught it in his own. "I had the most bizarre dream." She said with a small yawn. He ran his hand once over the length of her small one, surprised at the softness. "Erik, what is behind your mask?" She asked as her eyes drooped. "Why do you hide behind it?" She said, her voice slurring a bit as she closed her eyes slowly.

"You would not stay if you knew." He said quietly, knowing she had not heard him. He put her hand back down on the bed and brought his own to the side of her face. He traced her jawline with his fingertips. He was afraid of how fragile she was. He was afraid he could break her with this simple touch. "Sleep well, Elodie." He said as he turned and silently left the room.

---

_**The next day**_

_**Elodie**_

The kitchen chair was hard underneath depsite the cushion she was sitting on. Erik sat across from her, not looking at her. This irked her. She wanted to snatch the paper her was staring at and toss it out the window. More so she wanted to fling off the mask he wore. She did neither.

She brought a heavy spoon to her mouth and slurped at the broth. Bits of vegetables had been added this time. She chewed on some of them with consideration. Vegetables, she declared to herself, were safer than bread. She brought a glass of water to her mouth next. The cool liquid rushed down her throat which felt like it was on fire.

"I've been thinking." She began as she looked at the paper from afar. "We are not very compatible are we?"

He glanced up, his eyes curious.

"I mean. We don't seem to see things the same way. It makes it very hard for us to exist in this space together."

"I am not sure what you mean." He said.

"When we are silent everything is fine but if we speak to one another..." She trailed off. "Well it does always end in both of us upset or angry."

"You mean to tell me something?" He questioned as he looked back down at the paper.

She thrust her hand forward and snatched the paper from him. His eyes shot up quickly. "Why can you not just speak about her? I will tell no one. I truly have no one tell in any case. Besides, I would not betray your trust."

"It is," He paused to look down at the table. "not something that is easy to talk about." He stood abruptly. "Must we get into this again?" He said with a hint of annoyance.

Elodie sighed and set the paper down. "I am just trying to help." She said.

"Well I would prefer if you did not." He seemed agitated and she could feel herself growing tired of this routine. It hurt too much. "The village has been alerted to your disappearance. Your former keepers are searching for you. They have been looking for you since you escaped."

Elodie felt her body explode with anxiety. Fear flowered in her and it began to leech her of common sense. Her eyes shot rapidly to his face and it was solemn. She could do nothing to stop herself from shaking.

---

_**Erik**_

She was struck by the news, he could see. She looked terrified. "They have finally contacted your parents, I have heard. They will be here within a week at the latest. You must go back."

"No." She said quietly, her large eyes searching for another solution.

"There is no choice. They will search the entire area for you. I will not be found out for housing you. I will not be put to charge for something scandalous."

"No." She repeated calmly.

"So you see, you have to go back. There is nothing I can do."

"No." She said louder, her mouth twisting into a frown.

"There in no other answer!" He said as he stared down at her. He could see her brain working in her head. He could see she was trying to think of an out.

"No. I won't go. You cannot make me!" She said louder.

"Elodie-"

"I said no!" She screamed, her tiny fist flew into her thigh. He grimaced at the look on her face.

"I do not want to see you go." He said quietly. "But I cannot quit this place so suddenly because you are too stubborn and want the entire village to bring their wrath down upon me."

---

_**Elodie**_

She felt the hollow pit of her stomach churning with his words. She could feel the uncertainty welling in her. She did not want to bring harm to him. She did not want him to be run out of the village. It was a conflicting decision. She also did not want to go back to that horrid place either. She did not want to leave him.

She tried to calm herself. His steady eyes made it difficult. He did not look away from her. She rose and faced him. Her mind ran with possibilities. There had to be something. Her lips were quivering, her eyes filling with tears. Erik was unreadable. She could not tell how he felt about any of this. It bothered her.

She wanted to figure out this enigma of a man. She wanted to discover what made him the way he was. She never willingly left a problem unsolved and she felt like she could fix it for him if she could just stay with him. It was far better than returning to a dreary life of containment.

The answer hit her with force.

"Erik," She said hopefully. "I will go but you have to do something for me first."

He did not respond as usual. Only looked at her.

"Take me to Paris." She watched his brow furrow. "Please. I just want to see the city I love before I am forever locked up in that place. Please. It's all I ask of you."

"Elodie." He said, drawing her name out as if it were painful.

"Erik, I will do all you are asking of me if you just do this one thing. Please." She waited. "Please?"

"If this is what you want." He said uncertain. She smiled and rushed toward him. His body filled with tension as he realized that she had thrown her arms around his waist and was hugging him tenderly. She smiled into his chest.

Paris was a suitable place to hide in. Once there she could find a way to make him stay longer than anticipated. She would even dig up his past if she had to.

She would not go back to that place alive.


	11. Chapter 11: A Tangle of Ice And Demeanor

Chapter Eleven: A Tangle of Ice And Demeanor

_**Erik**_

Erik glanced wearily at Elodie as she hummed with excitement beside him. He was growing increasingly worried about her little trip to Paris. Every part of him screamed out against it. He knew nothing but trouble would result. He would give anything to order her back to the village and into the cruel and uncaring hands that would watch her for the rest of her life. He would not go back on his promise. Still, Paris was filled with sadness. Filled with horrible memories he wished never to encounter again.

It was a place where one could easily lose themselves to the past and dream of impossible futures.

He knew Elodie was planning something. Her eyes twinkled a bit too much for his liking. He knew she did not want to return to the sanatarium. He knew that she had lived in Paris. She would try to escape from him, he was sure.

The carriage they rode in bounced down the road uneasily. He turned and glanced at Elodie. Her tiny hands clutched the edge of the seat tightly. Her knuckles were turning white. A smile was plastered on her face and he scowled.

"Erik, it will not be as bad as you think." She said absently as she stared out a window. "You've lived there. You know how grand a city it can be. Why not think of something pleasant about Paris instead of pondering over her."

Erik snorted with annoyance. "Grand, indeed."

"What is that supposed to mean?" She asked sharply.

"I have very few fond memories of that dreadful place. I know nothing pleasant about it. I live in seclusion and always have. Paris is nothing to me."

"That's a rather bleak way of looking at it." She said.

"Not all can masquerade such joyous times in the city as you can, Elodie."

She glared at him and bit her lip. He turned his head away from her and smiled secretly. She remained quiet for quite a long time.

---

_**Elodie**_

Paris was her only option at the moment and she was determined to not let Erik spoil her moods. It was difficult. He seemed so cynical about every tiny thing. She, herself, was often like this but she had never noticed how undesirable a characteristic it really was.

"What could you possibly want in Paris, anyhow?" He asked after an hour or so.

"Time." She answered quietly. "Just time." She turned her big eyes on him. "You must know what I mean. To want to be someplace just for the sake of being there for awhile. Just to waste time in a place that makes you feel alive." She paused to consider her words. "Do you know how to be alive?" She asked carefully.

He frowned at her. "Do you?" His reply smacked of frustration.

"Sometimes I don't think I do. I think I just adopt how other people act." She studied her nails. "My mother used to say that I was too alive. I killed that part of me. Or at least I've tried. Now I can't really tell." She trailed off, confused by her own speech.

"Do you ever wonder if you actually happen to be exactly the way everyone says you are?" She asked. She glanced at him, his face unreadable. "I feel so mental sometimes. I feel like I am what everyone thinks I am. It feels so wrong. I know it's not true but eventually I start feeling like they must know better than me. I can't see myself the way they do."

"You see yourself the way others see you." He said slowly. "Perhaps you should not trust their definition of your own being, Elodie."

She studied him with gentle eyes.

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"In your case, perhaps, you are exactly the way you see yourself. Perhaps you are far too grand for them to comprehend."

A smile broke out across her face and it felt strange and lively. She reached out and clasped his hand firmly in hers. "Thank you Erik." She said. He looked startled at first but relented to her touch. "Perhaps you are not what you think of yourself, either." She said.

He did not glance at her, only turned his head toward the window.

"The train ride should be quick." He said with no emotion. "You shall be in Paris soon."

---

Elodie was not used to this Erik. He seemed further withdrawn then she had ever encountered him. Once aboard the train and properly seated he did not respond to her attempts at conversation. He seemed to sulk in the corner of his seat, pressed into his own thoughts. What she could see of his face was tight with discomfort.

Perhaps bothering her more than it should have, she glared at him. He either did not notice or did not care. He did not have a thought in the world for her now.

Quite the opposite for her, she could think of nothing but the man before her. She tried to stare at the passing landscapes but she quickly grew tired of it. She tried to trace a pattern in her hand but started losing track of what it had been.

_Your memory is failing,_ her mind laughed at her. She fought back, repressing the critical voice in her head. She set about trying to recall a sonnet she had memorized as a child. Her lips fumbled over the beginning and she started when Erik glanced up at her.

"What did you say?" He asked politely, as if he had misheard.

"Nothing." She said, shaking her head

"You did indeed say something." He pressed.

"No. I absolutely did not." She insisted, her face growing hot under his gaze.

"If I am not mistaken it sounded much like, _Those hours, that with gentle work did frame._" His intense gaze did not waver and she began to fidget uncomfortably. "Is it something you have learnt by heart?" He asked, trying to seem uninterested.

"Fine, yes, alright." She said, blowing out air. "It's a sonnet. Shakespeare's fifth."

"Well?" He waved a hand at her. "Continue."

"I-I can't remember more than that." She lied as she looked above Erik's head.

"I don't believe that." He said. "Continue."

"Why would you want to hear a sonnet recited?" She sighed. "It's surely not as interesting as the trouble you're going through. If you insist-"

"I do. Now continue." His demand sounded so final that she stole a peek at his face. Unmoved by emotion, as always.

_"Those hours, that with gentle work did frame  
The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell,  
Will play the tyrants to the very same  
And that unfair which fairly doth excel;  
For never-resting time leads summer on  
To hideous winter, and confounds him there;  
Sap checked with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone,  
Beauty o'er-snowed and bareness every where:  
Then were not summer's distillation left,  
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,  
Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,  
Nor it, nor no remembrance what it was:  
But flowers distill'd, though they with winter meet,  
Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet."_

Erik's eyes pierced her and held her fast. She could not look away. Some magic seemed to have fallen over him. He did not move. His breath was impossible to detect. He seemed frozen in time.

A worried look covered her face. She had not meant to cause any such response in him. It was a simple sonnet. Not much fuss and to-do over it, she had thought. Her protests had been for fear of reciting something from memory. She wondered if she should have feared something else.

"Your memory is excellent." He said quietly. "How is it so?"

"I have a knack for memorizing written word." She offered, her palms held face up to him in sacrifice.

"Indeed." He said, his head turned to stare back out the window. "Indeed."

---

**A/N: **The sonnet, as stated in the chapter is the work of William Shakespeare. I, in no way, claim this work as my own.

Sorry this chapter took so long. I got a bit caught up in something else. I hope you enjoyed!


	12. Chapter 12: Night Dreamer

Chapter Twelve: Night dreamer

_**Erik**_

He grimaced as Elodie yanked on his hand, her body pulling ahead of him. It was as if she thought her miniscule muscles could possibly persuade his own if he protested.

"Come on." She said with a glance back over her shoulder.

She had insisted that they go out the last three nights, having only let him remain in his room once since they entered the city. "Why must I go with you every which way?" He asked with a gruff tone.

"Erik," She pleaded. "it's rather lonely to be in this city at night by one's self."

"What could you possibly find interesting about this place at night?" He asked, skeptically.

"Oh it hardly matters." She admitted as she yanked on his arm again. "If you were willing to go out in the day this would not be a problem." She added. He frowned behind her. She was an insighful woman, he would give her that.

"Do you even know where we're going?" His questioned persisted.

"I personally don't know but you do." She replied slyly as she stopped and dropped his hand. Her thin arms folded across her delicate chest and she cocked her head sideways to stare him down. He narrowed his eyes in worry. "I want you to show me where you lived." She said, her thin lips fluttering with speech.

"Why?" He choked. "I will do absolutely no such thing." His heart began to race as he thought of the Opera House in correlation to where they now stood. He could practically see it in his mind. He did not want to bring her there.

"If you show me where you lived I'll show you where I lived." She offered, a hand held palm up in the air.

"No."

"Of course. I would not be that interesting." She said, her eyes drooping a bit as her face lost a glimmer of its light.

"Elodie," he sighed. "You are quite interesting. I just don't see how any of this is necessary."

"I just want to see." She repeated. "I won't prod or poke you. I promise." Her large eyes did not waver from his face.

He let out a sigh of reluctance. "You must show me your home first." He said slowly.

A smile broke across her face and she quickly wrapped her arm through his and began to lead him away from where they had stood. He went willingly. Anything to prolong the inevitable.

---

_**Elodie**_

She stood still beside Erik staring up at the boarding school that had been her home for two years. With evening had come a darkness in certain parts of the building. Scattered windows held light. She looked up at the window that had belonged to her. It was dark save for the flicker of a candle placed close to the window.

"A boarding school?" Erik's voice cut through her unexpectedly.

"Yes." She managed.

"Your parents' wish?"

"Yes." She nodded her head. "My mother in particular." She studied the brick facade, the double doors that led into an extravagant hall. "As a last resort. She wanted me to become a proper young lady and behave less like a man. She said I was too carefree, too lusty for life."

"Did this suit her?" He did not pry. She would have answered regardless of his tone.

"In the beginning. The headmistress, who met us when we arrived, was quite terrifying. She looked strict. She had her graying hair slicked back in a tight bun. It pulled on the skin of her forehead. She told my mother that she would have nothing to worry about. When I went home for a visit I would be the most obedient, proper woman she had ever seen.

I was quite scared of Mistress Gwendolyn. My mother left me here, handing her the first month's rent that my father had given her. You see he had come scouting before this. With me in tow, as a matter of fact. The final say had been that of my mother and she left me here. The moment after she had gone away Mistress Gwendolyn turned to me and smiled. 'Don't worry, Elodie,' she said 'your mother wants to squash the life right out of you. She wants to make you a shell of a woman. That will not be the new way.'"

"You were happy here." He judged.

"In the beginning, yes." She said with a sigh as her finger traced the bone protruding on her opposite wrist.

"How long were you a resident?"

"Two years." She stared longingly at her former window. She wondered who was slumbering inside of the bed now, with the rich purple drapes hanging over the frame. She noticed that Erik did not pry. His lips were in a straight line. She did not comprehend why. "At the end of my first year Mistress Gwendolyn was fired." She told him. "Complaints had risen that she was too leinant. Far too lax. She did not teach what we needed to learn. Most came from parents, my mother in the forefront. The woman that replaced her was an awful shrew." She bluntly.

Her eyes flickered to a large statue perched away from the upper balcony. Strange things had begun to happen to her at that point in her life. She could never do enough to please any of them. She had started to reduce her food intake as a way of punishment, determined to destroy herself if she could not advance in favors. She had been in the habbit of doing it momentarily for years. At that point it had stolen her mind. Erik cleared his throat gently.

She jerked herself away from the past. "Things quickly deteriorated. I was told I was becoming too thin." She laughed at this, remembering that she had been thinner than she was now. "When my parents were called upon to come to the school as quickly as possible they found me strapped to a bed in the school infirmary. I was taken home immediately once things became clear."

She did not share that a few of the girls had found her perched on the farthest edge of the statue extending off the balcony. Nor did she share that there were whispers that she was seriously ill. At the time they thought it could be a terrible disease.

"How so were they clear?" His eyes pierced her, held her to the spot.

She did not answer, instead glancing down at the ground at his feet.

She heard him open his mouth to speak and she rushed headlong into distraction. "Why do you not sing anymore?" She asked. His face became a blank slate, his eyes clear of emotion and thought. "I have heard you voice." She admitted somewhat sheepishly now. "It is a trained voice."

"Come." He said gruffily as he gripped her elbow. "Perhaps it is time I show you my home."

---

**A/N: I would really appreciate more reviews on this story as it gets views and alerts but has barely any reviews. I know you're reading it! Please. Just let me know how you like it, if I can do anything better, anything.**


	13. Chapter 13: The Opera House

Chapter Thirteen: The Opera House

_**Erik**_

His feet knew the way and went against his will. He was aware of Elodies arm in his hand. She kept up as best she could.

His heart was thudding painfully in his chest and for a moment he was sure she could hear it.

The dreaded corner was looming ahead of them. He stopped abruptly in his steps. Elodie was jerked back as her body rushed ahead of him. "Erik!" She moaned as she pried her arm from his grip and rubbed it sorely. "What is the matter with you?"

"Elodie, I...I am not feeling too well. Perhaps we had best return to the hotel."

"Oh no you don't." She said angrily. "I showed you. Now you had best show me."

He stood in silence, his dark eyes searching out the corner, expecting to see a ghost waltz around, her voice shattering his sanity. Nothing came.

"Erik!" Elodie stamped her foot impatiently.

He looked down at his feet. "Elodie, I do not think this is wise."

"I honestly don't give a damn what you think is wise." She declared. A fire lit in her eyes and he could see that lust for life her mother tried to kill. "If you do not show me I will go back to not eating a thing." She threatened.

His face grew dark and he closed his eyes. Her ultimatium was selfish. It was cruel. It reminded him of his own to Christine and it sent his heart into agony again. He clenched his fists at his side. "You think I would answer to such a childish threat?" He hissed angrily.

"Childish, is it?" She fought back, standing her ground. "So childish it put me in an asylum? So childish it led me to hang off of a statue from a balcony? I wish I had known how you truly view me Erik." She said bitterly

"This is all a childish game." He spat. "An attempt to run away from your problems."

"Oh!" She scoffed, a malicious grin spreading across her thin face. "You are much better than I am, is that what I am to understand? You pull yourself apart from a life you knew and flee to the middle of nowhere and for what? To avoid her? Running away from problems." She laughed. "I am not the only one guilty of this."

"You would not understand."

"How would you know?"

"You would not."

"Give me a chance!" She stood, a barrier between his being and peace. The fiery energy in her eyes burnt his determination.

He strode past her toward the corner, aware that she would follow. The end was near. The corner was turned. The opera house was before them. His heart gave way to panic and he let a stillness creep over his mind. Elodie, her tiny body beside him, stood strong. She had a hand on his forearm.

He was aware of her large doe eyes staring intently at the opera house that had been his home.

---

_**Elodie**_

The opera house was in ruins. She knew this. Still it was a sad realization as she saw the dilapidated condition of the once glorious place.

She could feel a slight tremble in Erik's limbs as he stood beside her. His face was blank but his body gave him away. "This is where you lived?" She asked somewhat cautiously. He did not respond. "I promised you I would not pry so I won't." It was a hard thing to say. Her curiosity had been fired and she wanted to slam him against a wall and not let him leave until he let the truth out.

"I came here once." She said. "Long ago. With my father."

His silence was painful.

_Just stop, you foolish twit! Stop before he despises you even more!_

"He was scouting for boarding schools. I did not know at the time. I had such a grand time watching a performance of-" Her rambling was interrupted by his anger.

"What do I care of your memories?" He yanked his arm from her. "I have dealt with you long enough. We are returning in the morning. You shall soon be in the care of your mother and father. I am done with you. I am not your keeper." His voice was void of malice. He was speaking needlessly, his eyes wide with panic. She could recognize it well.

"Erik." She whispered. She brought a hand slowly to his face.

He swatted it away and took a step back from her. "Do not touch me!"

Her eyes began to water. Her legs began to waver. She wanted to take flight. She wanted to disappear from his sight instantly. She knew he was acting out in emotion but it still made her heart ache.

"Come. We are going back to the hotel." He ordered. He turned his back on her and began to walk away.

She looked back at the opera house, aware that she could silently slip away from him this very moment. She did not. Instead, she followed him slowly.

---

The sun was fighting brightly through the curtains in her room. She sat stiffly on the edge of her bed. She stared at the bundle of food Erik had gathered for her. She did not want it near her. Her body was aching for it. She wanted it away.

She could not let the urges take over her. She could not let him see that she was weak, that she was worthless. That she could devour life.

Despite her wishes, her body threw itself upright. She grasped each item of food and brought it to her lips before setting it down. She stared at it a moment longer.

The pain rushing in her head became too much. Her actions became blurry. Her fingers were prying food apart in rapid motions. Her shaking hands brought the morsels to her mouth and she downed them one after another. She barely bothered to chew. The need to swallow it all was overwhelming.

She was forced to stop when there was nothing left.

She stood before the mess of crumbs she had left. The empty space where untouched food should have been.

Instantly her stomach ached. She brought a clenched fist to her wrist. It did nothing to stop the screaming in her head. She brought it to her head. Still nothing.

She grasped her hair and yanked, not noticing a large clump that came away in her hand.

She staggered toward her door and left the room. Her way out of the hotel was hazy. She only stopped once she had found the back exit and threw herself on the side of building and made herself sick.

---

Elodie had crawled away from her mess and found a small makeshift cubby in which to hide. It was not far from the street where people passed. She could watch them longingly, wishing she could be one of them for just a day.

Her head throbbed and her vision often became blurry. Her throat ached.

Her world was falling down around her, burning like a lost city of dreams.

"Oh you poor thing." A soft voice said before her. She tried to see who had uttered these words but could see nothing. "Are you alright?" She squinted her eyes against the sun. The woman before her was more beautiful than any woman Elodie had ever seen. Her curled brown hair framed her pale face perfectly. Her soft eyes gazed upon her with worry. She was dressed in a splendid manner. She brought a hand out and offered it to Elodie who eyed her cautiously. "I won't hurt you." The woman reassured her.

"Who are you?" Elodie responded unkindly.

The woman smiled lightly. "Christine de Chagny."

"I..." Her vision began to blur again. "Erik." She wailed softly before tears overtook her.

---

Christine was very kind to Elodie. She took her back up to her hotel room and got her settled in bed. "You poor darling." She said as she pressed a cool cloth to her forehead. "You seem quite ill. Do you have a friend? A caretaker, perhaps?" Elodie weakly shook her head, keeping her gaze away from the door. Erik's room lay across the hall. "Promise me you will sleep." Christine said. Elodie nodded again. "This is the address to my husband's home. If you feel better soon please stop by and let me know?" Elodie could not manage a word but nodded as best she could. "Alright."

Christine seemed uncertain of her position suddenly. "Are you sure you will be alright?" Elodie stared at her. She sighed. "Don't forget." She said tapping the paper she left on the bedside table.

Elodie watched her as she left the room.

---

_**Erik**_

Elodie did not answer his knock. He wondered if she had gone out during the day by herself. He had hoped she hadn't. He did not want to wait to see her again. He wanted to make sure he had not caused senseless damage after last night's escapade.

"Elodie?" He called gently. When she did not reply he tried turning the knob, hoping it was unlocked. It did not give under his pressing. He rapped on the door loudly. "Elodie?"

The silence from within taunted him.

Defying logic, he threw his shoulder into the weak door. The lock gave way easily. Her room was tidy save for a scattering of crumbs on the writing desk. His eyes lit upon her umoving form hidden underneath blankets. A cloth was draped over her eyes. She did not move. He could hardly tell if she was breathing.

He closed the door behind him and moved carefully toward her bedside.

"Elodie, what is wrong?" He whispered. She did not start. He took the cloth from her eyes and placed a hand on her cheek. Her body seemed cold. "Elodie."

He grased her shoulders and shook her lightly. Her head lolled for a moment and his heart was sent into a flurry of emotion. He calmed once he saw her face scrunching in discomfort. "Elodie."

Her eyes opened slowly and he did not like the distrust in hers. She remained unmoving in his hands. "What is the matter?" He leaned in toward her.

She sunk as deep as she could into the bed.

He stood abruptly. His hand traveling to his mask. She did not want him near her. She knew everything, he was sure.

He turned on his heel, slamming the door behind him.

---

_**Elodie**_

Erik's face was warped with anxiety and sadness as he turned from her stormed from the room. She could not help but feel relief.

Her life had been nothing but torment since she had met him. Her once strict control was pushed away by these awful human urges. She could not explain what he arroused in her. It was strange and she disliked it.

She wanted him to stay away from her. She had realized this after her episode earlier. The food had felt almost comforting going down but coming back up it was painful, as if it did not want her. As Erik did not want her.

_You are sick, you know? _Her mind accused her. _Wanting to consume him. You're far too passionate. This is the lust that will get you in trouble._

She curled over on her side and brought her knees up to her chest. Her stomach ached. The deep pit seemed every growing. The hollowness seemed to be spreading across her entire body.

She knew she would die shortly.

---

**A/N: So Christine enters. **

**I don't think I can keep her out of phantom fic to save my life.**

**This story has now gone past the length of my first but I think it is because Creatures of Flesh has shorter chapters. I am quite fond of this story. **


	14. Chapter 14: The Fortunes

Chapter 14: Fortunes of Madame de Chagny

_**Erik**_

Time seemed to pass much slower now that the heat of their relationship had reached its peak. Elodie did not respond to him in the tiniest way. She often sat across from him, her eyes carefully trained on the wooden boards that made the floor.

A day had passed since he had stormed out of her room. A day had passed since she had pushed herself away from him into an unwilling bed.

He hated looking at her. It caused his heart to ache painfully.

He had watched her consume a large amount of food earlier. She had disappeared for half an hour. When she returned her eyes were full of water and they were red. Her bones trembled. She sat unsteadily facing away from him.

Even now this is how she remained.

He could think of nothing to say to her. He could think of nothing to do to coax her out of this uncomfortable confrontation.

So he sat, unmoving, across from her. His eyes darting up every now and then to glance at her. Simply to make sure she had not disappeared into thin air.

---

It was not until the sun was shining brightly the next day that he decided he would follow Elodie out of the hotel. She had left her room moments earlier and he had watched her back turn down the stairs.

His mind had been made up. He slipped on his heavy cloak and darted after her, as silent as a ghost.

He followed her down crowded streets. She paused to stare at something in her hand and to glance about her. His heart beat loudly in his chest and he wished it would be more cautious. No eyes landed on him as he slinked about the city of Paris. Each to their own warped thoughts. No one had an ounce of sanity to spare for a once formidable phantom demon.

The walk seemed endless. She weaved unhesitating through the foot traffic. She was certainly not lost. She seemed to know this part of the city well.

She stopped at a large house. It was oddly placed but as a manor of grandeur it was apparent its patron paid greatly for its out of place location. The wrought iron gates seemed alarming and the intricate twirling of metal designs threatened him.

Elodie did not pause at the gate but slipped inside and began her way slowly up the walk. She paused for a moment at the door before it was opened and she was taken in by a feminine form.

It was only as he stepped closer to see a final glance of her that he became aware of a plaque that had been placed on the stone that accompanied the gate. It was gold-leafed and carved gently. The words stung him deeply and he tried his best to reel away from the anger it sent spiraling through his veins.

He glanced once more with fire in his eyes before he spun on his heel and became an illusion passing among the world of the living leaving the swirling words behind him.

He would not let another survive if he had to place his eyes upon the name of the Vicomte de Chagny again.

---

_**Elodie**_

The front room was much smaller than she would have expected. It was elegant none the less. Soft and warm colors greeted her and calmed her troubled mind. A maid asked her to wait and she patiently did, her fingers tracing the designs on the arm of the sofa she sat upon.

She could hear women talking as footsteps echoed on floor outside. Her breath caught in her throat and for a moment she cursed herself for having come at all. She wanted to throw herself up and through the glass window before her. She wanted to escape before it was too late.

The door opened and Christine de Chagny entered.

"Why hello." She said with a surprised voice. She smiled kindly at Elodie. "You have come! I was expecting to never hear of you." She approached Elodie slowly, as if aware of her skittish eyes.

Elodie watched her with a nervous air before she realized Christine's gentle questioning look. She jumped to her feet, struggling slightly to keep her balance. "Elodie Papillion." She said in a squeak of a voice. She made to offer her hand put Christine waved her away.

"Oh don't bother with that." She said with a laugh. "I am just glad you've found me! I was quite worried about you. You look on the verge of death, you poor thing."

Elodie could feel her skin blushing. "I came to thank you." She said quietly as she looked down at her feet.

"There is no need." Christine said. "I could not have walked away after I had seen you. Are you really much better?"

Elodie nodded. "I am. It must have been nothing serious."

"So, Elodie, are you living in that hotel?"

"No." She said as she studied her hands. "I'm staying with-" She cut herself off. Erik's face swam before her and she had to squeeze her eyes shut and pinch herself to make him leave. "I am rather without home right now." She concluded.

"Oh," Christine said suspiciously. "how awful. You had been saying you were staying with someone. Was there a spat? Trouble of some kind?" Elodie's naturally large eyes fluttered nervously over Christine and she jolted onward. "I don't mean to pry it just seems that someone so young and frail as yourself should not be living alone."

"I was with someone. I perhaps still am but we shall part ways shortly and he shall be glad for it." She said simply as she looked away. "You are the wife of a vicomte?" She said, changing the direction Christine was leading her in.

She was rewarded with a bright smile. "Yes and blessed with a newborn son."

"Congratulations." Elodie mustered a smile. She fell silent, thinking of Erik. He was all she had been able to think of these past few days. Perhaps even weeks. Her thoughts nagged at her to remember his Christine, married and newly a mother. She firmly shut off that portion of her mind.

"Would you care for tea? A light brunch?"

"Oh, no thank you!"

"Would you like to meet Raoul, my husband. I have told him about you. He is a kind man. He too was worried though he has not ever seen you." Elodie's ng w furrowed but the older woman stood and grasped her hands. "Come." She seemed quite full of life and Elodie silently cursed herself for being so dead in responses. She silently cursed Christine as well for have such light in her eyes.

As they passed down a hall Elodie's eyes lit upon an old photograph of the opera house. She paused in her steps and stared intently at it. Beneath it, on a wooden column was a thick leather bound book. A black ribbon was hanging from the shut pages. A newspaper clipping was framed below the photograph. In large print it exclaimed the wonders of a newly found soprano, Christine Daae.

The woman of the clipping had finally realized her guest had not followed her and doubled back. "Ah." She said with a sigh. "The Opera Populaire. I see you have found our little shrine to the place."

"You were an opera singer?" She asked casually, her eyes resting again on the massive building that now lay in utter ruins.

Christine nodded slowly. "I would much rather have not thought about my time there but I became convinced I should be thankful for all the place gave me. I learned lessons there that not every soul can learn. Surely I learned what compassion can give. A few years can teach you forgiveness as well. I would not forget him for all the world." She seemed to trail off in her own world. Elodie's ear trained in upon the last sentence that sent shivers down her spine.

"Him?" She whispered.

Christine de Chagny started, her eyes growing wide. "What? Oh did I say him? Silly of me. I meant the opera house itself." Elodie did not believe her for a moment. She watched Christine stare at the photograph, a sort of nostalgia clouding her eyes. Her hands found their way to the book and her slender fingers traced the cracks gently.

"I know of a man who lived in the Opera Populaire." Elodie said slowly. Christine seemed not to pay attention. "He does not like to remember it himself. I believe he lost the love of his life within the place. Perhaps during that tragedy those years ago. I do not like to press him. He has quite a temper. I have never been able to figure out what precisely happened at the opera house. I was preoccupied with my own troubles at the time. Now I wish I could question him. It seems to sore a subject, though."

She was aware that Christine's eyes had narrowed upon her. Elodie felt herself grow uncomfortable. "Perhaps it is best I leave." She said quickly.

"Don't be ridiculous." Christine said.

"I'm not feeling well." She tried.

"Do you want to know of what happened in the opera house? It is not much of a story, in hindsight." Elodie did not look up. "I was the leading soprano at the time so I would know best what had taken place. There was a man, a genius, but one tormented by his own fate. He was lonely and in love. Anything, he believed, could be won or, at best, taken by force. He wanted the love of his life. He decieved her in an attempt to claim her.

"He learned very quickly that a true love will win out. In his anger he devised a plan that would steal her away from her own love and make her his wife. Murder was not important to him. Anyone could perish so long as he could have her and not live the remainder of his life alone in the darkness. He cut the chandelier in the theater. It crushed many patrons and set a fire. His distraction seemed to work. The crowd was in a panic. Rightly so, he had wanted to send those closest to his love into a panic. The general public knew nothing of his love, of his dark desires, of his obsessions. They died pointlessly.

"She was, in the end, saved by her own compassion. She offered him all that he asked for in return for her true love's life. Details are not important here. I assume he realized that it was of no use to force her into marriage as she did not love him nor could she when her heart belonged to another. He gave her up in the end. No one has heard of him since. Most believe he has died." Christine's face was blank. "A tale, I am sure. Not much to it." She said shyly.

Elodie's face was pale. Her heart was beating dully in her chest. She could feel her breath coming rapidly. Her vision was wavering. "Thank you." She managed. Christine nodded. "I am afraid I really must go, though. I really feel quite ill all of a sudden."

Christine's eyes turned on her with worry. "I am sure I'll be alright but I need to rest. Perhaps I can meet your husband another time."

Christine nodded. "Of course. If you must rest I would think it best that you do." She guided Elodie by the elbow toward the door. She paused to whisper something a maid hovering near the front door. "Please, let my carriage take you back to your hotel. It is not an easy walk from here and I would rather know you are there safe than collapsed on the streets."

"No, I'll be-"

"I insist." Christine said firmly. Elodie was too weak to fight back. She nodded resentfully.

"Thank you."

While they waited Christine captured her hands and held them. "Elodie, promise me you will visit again?"

Elodie wanted to ask why. She wanted to demand to know why the wife of a vicomte wanted the company of one so lowly as she appeared to be. What good was there to continue to be assured of her well being. Christine's good deed had been done. Elodie wanted to argue that that should suffice. Instead she agreed.

The carriage ride back was painful. Elodie felt the knots of anxiety pounding against the pit in her stomach. She felt it turning over, bending in inhuman ways. She felt quite ill.

Once she had staggered her way back up to her room she threw the bolt home, aware that Erik need only push against it. He had broken and it had not yet been fixed.

A substantial bit of food remained from his own supply. It seemed to call to her. She grasped it, tears now flowed freely from her eyes. Each bite was less real as she swallowed it hungrily. She wanted nothing but consumption. She wanted to fill the pit before it grew larger, taking over her whole body. She prayed she could stop the feelings with the food she jammed into her mouth.

Her cheeks quickly became puffed as she shoveled in every last bit of food. Her stomach stretched, bloated. Tears streamed down her face as she bent over and hurled it all back up.

Blood spattered the area. It was only when she brought her shaking hand to her lips that she was aware of the red liquid that quickly smothered her pale skin. A sob shook her tiny body painfully and she collapsed on the floor, letting the mess of emotions out. She was quickly realizing that nothing could keep them at bay.

---

The rush of emotions Elodie had felt had no meaning, she was sure. Christine's story of the Opera Populaire was just too realistic to her imagination. It sent her into a frenzied panic. She had believed that it was Erik's story she was hearing. Now, as she drifted into an uncertain sleep, she tried to convince herself that it was not. There was no proof.

_Only Erik's haunted look, his secret sobs, as he mourned the loss of his true love. The one who had been freed. The one who had married and become a mother and had moved on, leaving him alone in turmoil. Only that was real._

---

_**Erik**_

He contemplated leaving Paris.

The sense of betrayal was fresh and wounded him deeply. Logic evaded him, his emotions could be strong and determined. He knew, in the back of his mind, that Elodie knew nothing of his past. She did not know how he was connected to the house she visited.

Something startled him as he sulked back to the hotel in the bright sun. Despite the fact that he had stood outside of that house so often, longing for the woman within, he had been slow to realize it was this house that Elodie was entering. He needed a plaque to inform him. It was with a strange feeling that he admitted to himself that, perhaps, he cared more for Elodie than he wanted to say.

He worked on calming himself while he waited for her to return. He sat still as he heard her door open and close. He remained still as he wondered what she was doing now.

He missed his small cottage house. He missed the seclusion it offered. The city stirred him up. It brought out the very worst in him, as it seemed to do for many.

He would leave her to her own devices.

His night would not be spent sitting silent next to her.

His heart only wanted the opera house. He wanted to see what had been his once not to long ago.

---

**A/N: **I apologize for this chapter. Reviews still appreciated!


	15. Chapter 15: The Phantom

**Author's Note: **Wow. Strange. It's at the beginning. In any case, I want to thank you all for reading so far. Sorry this is taking such a long time! I've started classes up again and I've had to set this aside for a bit. I'm not going to stop updating but it will be slower for sure.

Chapter 15: The Phantom

_**Elodie**_

Elodie woke after the sun had fallen. She was mired in confusion until she spotted the mess beside her. She quickly sat and scooted away. She pinched her nose and closed her eyes.

_Where was Erik?_

She wondered where he could have gone. Some knowledge within her made her convinced of the fact that he was most definitely not in the hotel. She had grown so accustomed to him waking her that his absence felt like a brutal upheaval.

She stood on shaky legs and wandered out into the hall. The gentle quiet did not startle her. Erik was often more quiet than crypt and if she had heard a sudden noise it was more likely to frighten her than the deadliness of silence. She timidly knocked on his door. As she waited she shifted from one foot to the other and crossed her arms over her chest.

She knocked again, slightly louder. "Erik?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper. She did not want to intrude as carelessly as she was prone to do. "Erik?" She tried again. She desperately wanted to hear his voice. She did not care if it would respond with anger.

She despised herself for the feelings of loneliness and despair swelling heavily in her lungs and heart. Her stomach felt dull and hollow. For once she did not like this feeling. Comprehension of this new sort of emotion was unbearable.

She sighed and turned her back on his door. She had no where to go but back into a room she could not stand to be in. Instead, she swiveled herself around carefully and descended the stairs and trailed her way out of the hotel.

Part of her screamed that it was not nearly safe enough for her to go wandering around Paris at sundown by herself. It was simply not done. She continued on anyway. She traced steps she and Erik had taken together and found herself in front of her former school. The lights blazed in every window.

Her body shivered involuntarily. Her mind began to attack her once more.

_Who on earth do you think you are? Elodie? Ha! How can you be so sure? Does a single person remember you? To your parents who have forced you away into some god forsaken asylum to your friends who refuse to send even the slightest word. _

_Don't you dare believe that Erik knows you. He could hardly offer a whim of loyalty to you. You test his patience and burden his memory. He has no room in his heart for you. _

She wandered on, barely recognizing the path she tread.

_How much closer have you gotten to understanding him, eh? You, who so desperately crave his affections. Silly child. Foolish girl. Oh you do know what those feelings mean. You know why your heart aches even now as you think of him. You aren't as much of a fool as you masquerade. _

_How dare you _**love **_him! Despicable. We've had this problem before, Ellie. We reached an agreement. _**You are not allowed to love. I do all the thinking for us.**

She came to an abrupt stop before the ruined opera house. Her head felt fuzzy as she battled off her inner demons. She became aware of her stark vulnerability.

The large shadowy form of the opera house pressed in on her. For a fleeting moment she thought she could hear a sound coming from within.

"Erik." His name tumbled out onto her lips. She suddenly knew precisely where he was. Perhaps where he would, in his heart and mind, always remain.

---

_**Erik**_

The interiors were much too gloomy. The scorched walls, the peeling wallpaper.

When he had arrived he had went into the theater. The glass shards lay scattered about from the chandelier. He felt no remorse. In fact, he could feel nothing. He had closed his eyes and imagined being among the crowd as the chandelier had been let loose. He imagined the feeling of a spray of glass ripping across his flesh. He had opened his eyes and laughed, a hollow sound empty of emotion. He could never imagine the fear those opera-goers had felt. He would never be put in their situation.

Now he wandered slowly through weaving halls toward the dressing rooms. His hands often met the fading walls. His hands dipped into holes and over tears. The dressing room he wanted was an eternity from him. Even as he turned the doorknob and heard the squeak of the hinges he could not feel the room. It was barren of the life he had once cultivated.

Dust littered every surface. The vanity his Christine had so often sat before had been vandalized. The mirror through which he brought her remained untouched. He stood in the center of the room, trying to conjure up a wisp of a ghost. He struggled to bring light and warmth back into this room so he could snuff it out.

It was futile.

He had not stood a moment when he heard a faint echo reverberating off of the walls. "Hello?" Her voice was faint and distant. He closed his eyes, wondering what would happen if he simply slipped back into his phantom persona and did away with her. He could be merciful. He could end her misery and no one would ever know.

Elodie had long since been forgotten by the world.

She called again but her voice was much smaller. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as he realized she was moving away from him. She had been so close.

Her calls were merely distorted sounds by the time he forced himself into action. He fled the room and tore down the hall, his cloak fluttering behind him. She continued to call, leading him to her.

She was in the theater when he stopped. He could see her form, her slender back facing him. Her arms remained at her side, her head stared forward. The destruction, he knew, was soaking up her eyes. She had fallen silent as she surveyed the location of death and dismay.

She was so fragile. So easily crushed. Here was his warmth, this single china doll woman who had invaded his life. She taunted him so easily. Her light was always flickering in the harsh breeze of light. He could easily put it out. Physically he could destroy this tiny being. As he watched her stand, the realization that he could not so easily kill her hit him.

She had swarmed over him with her dramatics, her idle chatter, her ferocious truths. She did not cower from his past but pushed and prodded until he lashed out. She had not left him yet despite the evils they had done to one another. Now here she was, in the house of his eternal misery. She had followed him somehow to the place he had not ever wanted her to see.

He could not be rid of her. She seemed to trace him. Her reliability was terrifying. Her presence was delicious. He did not ever want to see her leave him. Perhaps being lonely was not all this cruel world had to offer.

---

_**Elodie**_

The mess of the theater was disheartening. She masked the quaking in her limbs. The very air of the opera house was stale and tainted. She could feel the horrors pressing down on her. What madman had done this?

Her thoughts flew back to Christine de Chagny and her opera house tale.

_Could Erik have done all of this? _No. She refused to believe it.

Her breathing was very faint. She did not want to stir up masked ghosts with vengance in their minds.

She took a slow step forward, stopping under the sound of crunching glass. She inhaled sharply.

This was not right. Something was dreadfully amiss.

"Erik?" She called out, the fear in her voice evident. She hardly cared. She could not stand being alone in this place a moment longer. Only silence met her ears. She took another step forward and another. She slowly worked her way up the aisles, her boots grinding glass further into the damaged floor. The seats were charred and mangled. She paused beside the massive structure of a fallen chandelier. For a moment, she imagined she could see the blood of its victims beneath it.

She quickly continued on until she was feet away from the pit. The stage looked deathly. There was no life here as there once had been. It was painful. How quickly it could all come to an end. How mortal the world really was.

She exhaled gingerly, even the breath shaking with sobs held in.

She wrapped her arms around herself.

_Where was Erik?_

---

_**Erik**_

He was much stealthier than Elodie and so was able to follow her slowly down the haunted aisle. She was blind to her companion. He was reminded of how foolish she was. She hardly seemed to think someone dangerous could be lurking in the shadows.

It was not until he saw her trying to comfort herself that he threw caution to the wind and went to her. His large hand on her shoulder felt as it always did. She jumped under his touch and spun around. Her large eyes were filled with something he could not name. It was painful to look into the depths of her eyes and see some many passionate emotions swirling within. He knew he could easily be lost to her.

"Erik." His name slipped from her lips and the sound of it comforted him. She closed her eyes, the lashes capturing his attention. From underneath a single tear was released and he watched it trail endlessly down her pale face. It was followed by its fellows. He brought a finger to her cheek and ran it across her cheek, letting the wetness cling to his skin. Her eyes opened and she looked at him almost questioningly. "Erik, what madman was set upon this place?"

Her words stung deep. She stared up at him, her face innocent of his misdeeds. She could not begin to comprehend and calculate the evil monster she stood with, the being she so trusted with her very life. She had not meant it accusingly. Surely not for she could not know it was he who had done all of this.

Her question was one of humanity. He could see that she did not understand a world that could so casually kill so many people nor could she understand what had driven a man to destroy countless lives.

He did not know the answer. It was within him but he was far to terrified to look.

This, he was certain, was the pain his victims had felt that night and continue to feel every day. He could not stand the purity of Elodie's pain nor could he believe her compassion. He had brought tears to her eyes before but this time it scorched his very soul. He had never meant to cause so much pain to one person. He felt a rush of sickly regret pass over him as he claimed Elodie's tiny frame in his arms and drew her into him. He could feel her crying into his chest

"I am sorry." He said not knowing to who or for what he was apologizing.


	16. Chapter 16: Unmasked

**Author's Note: **Look! An update so soon! [= I felt like I was on a roll. Plus I had a bit more spare time than I thought I would. So here it is. I didn't even realize that this has surpassed my first complete phantom fanfic by chapters. It's actually quite exciting. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Sixteen: Unmasked

_**Elodie**_

She studied Erik's strong back as he stared out the tiny window in her hotel room. She lounged on the bed, a quilt wrapped around her numerous times. The melancholy around Erik, while contagious, seemed fitting. He had taken her away from the opera house and once the cool night air had met their faces he seemed much less tense.

Now he seemed wrapped in his own thoughts.

His face was blank, his dark eyes frightened with knowledge. His lips were pulled straight and she could not stand to see him without a scowl or a small grin. This sudden lack of emotion irked her.

He seemed much more contained than she felt. The opera house woes still clung to her skin and her being, crying out for proper recognition. She wished she could silence all of the sad imaginings.

Christine de Chagny's words picked at her brain. She could recall the words she wanted so clearly.

_"The general public knew nothing of his love, of his dark desires, of his obsessions. They died pointlessly."_

Pointlessly. Some poor, sad man had been pushed to his limits. Death did not matter to him. All that mattered was a chance to live, to be loved.

She glanced at the patterned quilt before returning her gaze to Erik.

Could it be possible that the madman of the opera tragedy was her Erik? She did not want to believe it but things were lining up far too neatly.

Erik spoke of a Christine whom he had loved, a woman who had married another and recently bore a child. Erik had lived in the very opera house so haunted by memories now. His soul was filled with music and painful loneliness. Even now as she recalled all of the minuscule details, a dream of her past came to haunt her.

In the dream was Erik, his face riddled with scars and destruction. His sorrowful eyes reflecting back at her as she had looked down into pools of water beneath some unknown building.

Was Erik the killer?

She bit her lip to suppress as sob. She could not let herself think such things. She could not be forced to let go of Erik.

Curiosity, her one greatest weakness, was slowly winning.

She sat straight and cleared her throat. Erik did not make any sign of having noticed though she knew his mind was alert.

"Erik," Her voice was surprisingly firm and steady. "what is it you hide beneath that mask?"

---

_**Erik**_

_Mask? What mask? Elodie, don't speak such foolish things. You know I wear no mask. This thing upon my face is hiding nothing. It is me. A part of me. Can you not see that? I hide nothing from the world. It simply the world who desires to hide from me. _

_Elodie, oh, dear Elodie. If only you could know. Speak more to you new friend. I am sure Christine has a tale to tell that would frighten your to further pallor. I cannot, I will not, send my story into your heart. Can you not see that I am cannot lose you?_

_Don't fear, Elodie. I have learned my lesson. I cannot keep you, chained to me like some forced dream. I still cannot let the words slip from my own mouth. I will not lose you due to my own foolish trust._

_Do not ask me again, my only friend. I can hardly bear to deny you. Please do not ask again._

---

He stood still, his body tensed under her question. His mind froze and repeated the strange thoughts in his head over and over. The silence that fell was not wanted.

He could not turn to face her. He could not utter a single word. His body was stuck, his mind trapped.

After several quiet moment Elodie sighed and he could hear the bed shifting as she stood. "Do you mind opening the window more?" She asked. "It still smells." She seemed so unconcerned by her own deathly destruction. How callous that she should expect him to be the same. She hummed lightly. Her musical inclinations were no where near that of his beloved Christine. Still, any hint of melodies sent him into a fury of panic.

He brought his hands to his face and let his fingers make their way over his flesh and mask.

His eyes narrowed as Elodie began to sing.

_"You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish, which till now has been silent. Silent....I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge- in your mind you've already succumbed to me. Dropped all defense and completely succumbed to me..."_

A slow anger and hurt began to swell as the words hit his ears. He did not know how she knew of those words, how she has so easily perfected his own melodies but he hardly cared. Frustration beat its impatient wings in his chest.

_"Past the point of no return, no backward glances. The games we've played till now are at an end-"_

"Stop!" He bellowed. His voice shook even his frame. Icy silence followed suit. He could not even hear her breathing. He closed her eyes and let his hands drop to his sides, clenching into fists. His anger was not meant for her but she was in the way. He hated himself even more when he turned and coldly stared down at her.

She did not cower but held a look of utter confusion. His head began to ache.

"How do you know of those words?" He demanded angrily. She did not respond. "How?" He shouted. She flinched once. He took a step toward her, aware of her own retreating form. "You sing as if you can understand a single sentence of such a song. How?" He was bellowing, his body trembling with emotion. He took another step. "What urges have your pursued? What passions and sick games have you hoisted upon another?" He took another step. Her face was now filled with worry.

"Erik, I-"

"What do _**you **_know of love?" He screamed as if in pain. His eyes were becoming clouded. His voice shook with weakness. "_**You **_loathsome gargoyle! What beauty do you dream you could hold in these hands?" Elodie's hurt and startled face swam before him. He wanted to reach out, to beg her to release him from this torment. He wanted to feel her in his arms, such a tiny thing holding him to life.

Instead, his legs gave way and he collapsed to the floor.

---

_**Elodie**_

In the beginning she had been worried she had angered him. She could not recall the song's name, its origin. She could not tell him how she knew it. It quickly became apparent that he was no longer speaking to her.

"You loathsome gargoyle! What beauty do you dream you could hold in these hands?" His voice was filled with loathing and hurt. His eyes glimmered in the light. She could barely register his tears before he had crumbled to the ground. His body made a thud and she jumped. It was too uncommon to see Erik so vulnerable.

He remained on his knees. His back was hunched over, his face to the ground. His body shook violently and she could hear the sobs he was trying to contain.

Tears welled in her own eyes. She hurried to him and crouched down. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Erik." She said soothingly. "I did not mean to upset you." She let her hand rub his arm lightly. All thoughts and concerns of being too forward had disappeared. Here was her Erik, in mortal pain. "What memories of the past haunt you?" She asked gently. "I wish I coud undo what damage has been done to you, Erik. You do not deserve this."

She brought a hand to his chin and lifted his head up. His watery eyes looked at her, pleading with her. His warm tears met her skin and she was surprised she did not flinch away. Here was her immortal Erik, her furious and strong Erik, showing the inner pain of his very soul.

She let her hand trace his cheek as he had done to her earlier that very night. She returned the favor of clearing away his tears. She would go to the ends of the very earth to care for him. She knew this now. Her heart beat with some acidity in her chest as her longing struggled to break free.

She cupped his cheek in her hand and watched as he let her. His eyes closed and he seemed to relish the feel of her hand on his face.

His mask remained.

She tried to keep her thoughts and concerns on his tears, on his trust. The mask was taunting her as its stark blank white was hit by the light. "Oh Erik." She said, a wrenching, regretful sob rising in her lungs. She knew she was destroying everything as her other hand easily found its way to the porcelin mask. He was completely unaware, his eyes still closed as embraced the warmth of her hand. His lips quivered.

Tears streamed readily down her face now as she felt her finger tips pry their way under the mask. His startled eyes flew open as she wrenched it off. Her gasp was audible.

The mask fell from her fingers and clattered to the ground.

Before her was not her Erik. He was marred. The side of his face that had been hidden by the mask was host to riddles of scars and uneven surfaces. Her breath caught in her throat.

---

_**Erik**_

His body and mind froze as Elodie's hands flew to her mouth. She covered the gaping openess of terror. He could not force himself to shield her view. His inhuman face was bare for her to see. The mask lay not feet from him but his limbs would not move.

His eyes hunted hers down.

The fear plastered on her deadly angelic face sent him into a spiral of self damnation.

---

_**Elodie**_

She did not see the fear in his eyes until he had captured her gaze. She was hit with the sudden fear of what she had done. She fully expected him to flee and never return. Here was his monstrous form and her love was thrown bare. She could not decide whether she should scream with fright or if she should cling to him.

She quickly let the fear drop from her eyes. His own changed rapidly. He covered his face with his hands and turned from her. "Does it disgust you, this thing you so desperately wanted to see with your own eyes?" His voice was icy and distant. She felt her heart ripping in two. She had been so close to him moments ago. Now the proximity of their bodies was the closest they would ever come, she thought. "This is what you wanted to see." His voice rose frighteningly.

His name caught in her throat. It was a mere grunt.

"Pandora has opened the box. Now you must live with this for the rest of your days." His voice contained a sneer she believed was on his face. "This is the monster you wanted to see!" He turned to show her his face before he turned away once more.

She moved to him. Her hand was on his back. He flinched away.

Anger took root in her thoughts. She removed her hand and laughed cruelly. "Nothing is as pathetic as thing display, Erik. Nothing on the face of the planet." She was aware of his tense back. He was listening. "The only characteristic that names you as a monster is this." She crossed her arm over her chest and pouted like a child.

He turned back to her and gave her a menacing glare before he reach behind him and snatched up his mask.

They sat quietly.

"I would have begged you not to remove it." He said quietly.

"What for?"

"This face, this loathsome face." He trailed off.

"Erik." She scolded.

"This face is not attractive. How can you bear to be so calm now? Moments ago your face was full of fear. An actress you might be, but you cannot erase my own memories."

She wanted to smack him. His misinterpretation of her fear was disheartening. True, she was shocked. His was not as handsome a face as she had once believed it to be. Yet she could not deny that she felt more endeared to Erik than previously. His flaws had been hidden but, now unmasked, she was sure he was human.

He was tangible and attainable.

If only he could see that she wanted him.


	17. Chapter 17: The Midnight Reaper

**A/N: Sorry this took so long to get up. I've been busy with classes and such! I also am sorry it's so short but don't fear! I'm working on another chapter as you read this. It should be up much sooner than this one. Enjoy!**

**___**

Chapter Seventeen: The Midnight Reaper

_**Erik**_

Erik huddled in the farthest corner from her. His body felt full of scorching fire. His heart beat irregularly in his chest. His breathing felt harsh and sharp.

He could not tell if anger possessed him or some sort of new level of self-loathing and fear. His eyes often reluctantly flickered to her face which remained a perfect blank slate. She sat reproachfully as if the world owed her something more than this.

His dry throat begged to speak with her but his heart told him there was nothing to say.

She had slipped through his fingers and was now floating endlessly about space. Perhaps an odd coincidence would haphazardly meld them together again. For now his loneliness and agony had won out. All he could afford was to study her.

_**Elodie**_

Silence. She was so tired of silence. All that Erik knew was silence. An awful, seductive silence that clawed at the weak and frayed bond between them. She longed to know what he was thinking, knowing full well that she never would.

Nervously, she chewed on a hangnail until blood bubbled on her fingertip. "Erik." His name was on the tip of her tongue. It danced around her mouth in earnest begging to be set free. Her eyes flickered to his and she was startled to see his own clouded gaze. He questioned her with a haunting stare. Realizing she had broken the silence, anxious energy immediately began ripping into her. "Am I really so unworthy?" The words were tumbling out now. She felt claustrophobic as they built up around her. She was building her own crypt.

"Urhm." He mumbled as he cleared his throat. She fully expected him to hesitate till the bitter end. "Can you not see?" His voice was painfully timid. "I am sparing you the pain, Elodie."

"Nonsense!" She exclaimed as she glared at him. "Can you not see?" She countered. "Erik, I cannot be without you. I simply will not be without you."

He deferred to her with more silence but she knew he did not understand her words. She hardly did herself. She had spent so much time trying suppress her passions and emotions. Now she was laying it all bare for Erik's use. She would sacrifice all of her struggles for control over that humanly being inside of her simply to see him be content.

"This trip to Paris has lasted too long Elodie." His words were bland and empty.

She jumped to her feet. Her hearbeat became frantic. Her eyes widened and her lips began to quiver. She despised herself for this sudden weakness. "What? Erik, no."

"This has to end." The pain in his voice cut her.

"You don't want me." She said, her voice shrinking away into nothing. He did not respond. Instead he furrowed his brow and drew his lips into a straight line. "Why don't you want me, Erik? I would never use this against you." Even though she had grown weary of her contrasting emotions she could not stop the tears in her eyes.

"Enough." He said.

"No, it's not enough." She howled. "My entire existence is pinned upon actions." She declared. "The actions I take and the actions I do not take. For too long I've been restricting myself. Before you took me in I never worried about anyone else the way I do about you. I never cried. I never felt so overwhelmed by these emotions. When I'm near you I feel so flawed and so human. I hate these feelings but I love what you've given me in exchange.

"You do not try to quell the parts of me that are distasteful. You've let me see that others can truly enjoy my little oddities without a personal agenda. I've never felt so happy to see someone smile at me. Even if it is the tiniest one you can muster. You can't pretend you haven't." She breathed in deeply. "I will never forget your little smirks or the way your eyes twinkle and I refuse to lose you-that." Her body felt near convulsions and she was terrified.

"What madness makes you think I am suitable for you?" His voice contained a noticeable ripple of aching pain.

"Erik," She moaned, her head pounding fiercely. "what madness makes you think you are not?" Their subtle argument was pushing her closer to her limits. The words she longed to say were bubbling in her mouth almost choking her.

"Elodie, don't be foolish." He said sternly.

"I cannot help it, Erik!" She cried. Her face felt flushed with the leap of confidence she was about to take. She could keep it in no longer. "Do you not see how I've fallen in love with you?"

Erik sat on edge, his spine stiff. He looked as if she had smacked him in rebuttal. Her heart fluttered and she felt overwhelmingly dizzy. He slowly closed his eyes.

"Elodie, please, do not say such a thing."

"But I love you." She said unevenly. Her heart felt as if it would burst. She flung herself on the bed and let sobs exit her mouth in a mass exodus. Her agony was far too painful.

There was a muffled sound and a series of footsteps before she felt his hand upon her arm.

"Elodie," he began, his voice full of dread. "Elodie." He scooped her up so they could properly see one another. "This world is not meant for us. It filled with people who could never understand two such as we are. Out persecution is our end. They will never see how we are together. It will never register as anything worthwhile or positive. I will always remain a monster and you will always remain a exuberant siren. Can you not see how dreadful a thing it would be for us to be removed from each other forever." His eyes searched her face with longing, his lips parted and closed. She desperately wanted to touch them. "You cannot love me, Elodie. For it will seal our fate even further."

_**Erik**_

This sudden confession should have left him dumbfounded and in doubt. He should have cast the final stone and pushed her away forever. He could not.

He could not possibly love Elodie. Love ended in betrayal and heartache. He certainly could not fully push her away. He could not bear to let her out of his life. It was painful enough to remember that she would have to return to her parents' care. He could hardly think of that physical separation let alone an emotional and eternal end.

The conundrum seemed impossible to solve. How to spare their companionship yet salvage the space between them.

As he thought it became apparent that their connection had been fated. The world was full of people who would never care an ounce for his nor for hers. In some way they could be creatures they were meant to be when they were near each other. Together they did not have to hide their social and expected deformities. They could simply be.

The rest of humanity would never understand Elodie or himself. In seclusion they could be as they were meant to be without interference and without judgement. Once he released her to her parents they could hardly expect to carry on. Who would understand the odd combination of a young woman who starved herself and a monster of a man with virtually no conscience? At least without her he had none.

He knew that even their friendship would never be accepted. He should have known they could never be.


	18. Chapter 18: The Intermission

A/N: Hi! Well this is a sort of in between chapter and it was super hard to write because I hated to do this to every character involved. In any case, I hope you enjoy it. Another chapter should be up by next week as I am now working on it feverishly during study breaks.

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Chapter Eighteen: The Intermission

**Two weeks later**

_**Elodie**_

Her mother's narrow eyes held her down as she sat in a stiff backed chair in a room near the warden's office. She felt weak and exhausted. There was nothing left for her to but give in. The days had slowly peeled away any resistance she had left. She was so tired.

Her heart ached painfully in chest. Often she could be seen clutching it as if she were going to die of a heart attack. She missed Erik terribly. She had not seen him since he had brought her to the assylum several days ago. Her parents had eyed him with distrust and turned their backs as soon as she was out of his grasp. Her last memory of Erik, she feared, would be of him standing the courtyard of the awful place with his head bowed and his shoulders slumped.

"Elodie," her father said from beside her. Ever since she had been in their presence it became apparent that the rift between her mother and father had widened in the wake of her disappearance. "do try to look a little more alive, dear." His hand patted hers gently.

She wanted to slip out of the chair and through the floor.

"It's a good thing we found you when we did." Her mother interjected bitterly.  
"Who knows what sort of trouble you could have gotten into." Elodie glared sharply at her mother. The unspoken reference of the masked man that had returned her was unwanted. Elodie would as soon as claw her mother's eyes out than have her speak ill of Erik.

She wanted to tell them that all was fine now. She would force herself to eat. She would gain weight back. She would do anything so long as they let her live on her own.

Her one great determination was to be free of their prying and to find her way back to Erik. Her love was more wild now than ever. She wanted to lavish it on him until he finally admitted that he cared for her too. Not enough to replace Christine's name with hers but enough to miss her as much as she did him.

The warden's office door opened with a creak and she felt her muscles tighten. The man was well-dressed and proper. His appearance often gave her the thought of Bram Stoker's Dracula. She had never trusted the man and now he stood, his words imminent. "Please, come in." He said as if he were inviting them into for a grand occasion.

Once they were settled he laced his fingers together and stared at the trio. "Since Elodie has returned to us thanks to...well an unknown source, we can offer her a place her once again. On one condition. She be moved up to the top tower. The doors are made of wood." Her father rustled beside her, her mother leaned forward. "However, if you would prefer to find a new situation for her I would entirely understand."

"This is very kind of you Doctor Renevue." Her mother said politely as she folded a cloth in her lap. "She has been quite troublesome to you these past...well we aren't sure this is the best enviornment for her any longer."

"What if she were to escape again?" Her father said with worry.

"I assure you should would not." The doctor replied.

"She has her ways." Her mother said stiffly. "We do appreciate all you have done to try to heal her but nothing seems able to fix this." She placed a cool hand on her daughter's bony wrist.

Elodie cringed as she listened tot hem speak of her as if she were not in their midst.

"I believe that we have options to speak of ourselves." Her father said. "There are minor disagreements among my wife and I, you see. It seems we have reached a stalemate. We don't know what to do with our dear Elodie any longer."

"She still will not eat a thing you give her."

Elodie wanted to protest that she could not muster the strength. Her longing for Erik had destroyed all urge for any morsel of food.

"She will not speak with us."

"She just sits and stares."

"Her pale face seems haunted and in pain."

"We are afraid she is dying, doctor."

"There is no need to explain." The doctor said gentley. "Please, take your time."

"Thank you." Her mother said. "I do..."

Elodie trailed off, her head filled with their endless words, their continual worries. Her mind wanted to trash her until she bled profusely.

_You are dying, you know. All because of that thing, _love. _Do you even hear what they are saying? Do you know that they want to take you away with them? You are practically on your deathbed. Imagine your poor Erik never knowing that you had disappeared off of the face of this grand earth. __**You are dying, Elodie. Don't you see that there is nothing left? I've won. **_

Elodie let out a ragged sob. The room went quiet. She stood on shaky legs and ran from the room. It was mere seconds before two orderlies had captured her and held her feet off the ground. She kicked and scratched at them but they would not let go.

Her mouth was open and horror was falling out on eardrums. Had she known that she scared a few patients within, had she seen how her mother's eyes watching the scene were watering, she might have let her body go limp. Instead, she continued until the burlier man squeezed her just long enough that she blacked out.

---

Her mother sat by her bedside, her fingers trailing through Elodie's limp, thin hair. Her father stood against a wall, his eyes hidden in the shadows. "My dearest child," Her mother said with a wimper. "this is too much for you."

Elodie's eyes flickered open. Her mouth was dry.

"Sophie," Her father said from the darkness. "tell her."

Her mother breathed in deeply and Elodie felt a rush of fear shoot down her spine.

"Elodie, we're taking you home."

She sat up quickly, her head growing faint. She pushed the feeling away from her. "No." She croaked.

"We have no choice. This place is killing you." Her mother said with a sob. She watched as she held a handkerchief to her mouth. She had never seen her mother cry.

"No," She managed. "I can get better. I promise." Her head grew foggy with the concept of home.

Her mother sobbed. Her father stepped forward into the light and Elodie recoiled. His face was empty of his previous devotion and love. It was replaced by a cold indifference. She knew her father was preparing himself for her death. "Elodie, you cannot. We all know this."

"But I can!" She was trembling now. It only then occurred to her that she had lost the minuscule weight she had gained with Erik. "I can! Please believe me." Her eyes pleaded with his cold surface. He shook his head.

"We are taking you home."

"No." She whispered as thick tears began to stream down her cold cheeks. "You cannot make me."

Her father bent over, his eyes fueled with anger now. "We cannot make you?" He demanded. "You can hardly sit! You can hardly stand. Try to fight your way out of this, Elodie. You are weak. You are not strong enough to refuse. We can and will make you return home with us."

"Robert." Her mother said suddenly. He backed away, shaking his head. "Ellie, we love you." Her mother said through her tears. "Please do not make this difficult."

"Mother, I can't leave." She begged, her eyes now turning on her mother. She was trembling violently now. "I need-"

"Elodie, please." Her mother begged as she watched her daughter in horror. Elodie relented and placed her head back upon the damp pillow below her. Her mother stroked her hand with care as she watched her drift off into an uneasy, dreamless sleep.

_**Erik**_

The cottage was too bare. The emptiness of life exuded from the painted walls and the floorboards. It crushed him in his sleep and pressed up roughly against him in his waking moments. He could not bring himself to return to his own bed because it smelt of the soap he had bought her.

He expected to see her lurking in a corner or standing behind him when he turned around. The abundance of herbs he had bought to make the broth remained in the cupboard. He could not bring himself to remove them.

For the first time since he had left Paris, the silence was too much. He had been banging about the house loudly ever since he had brought her to the asylum.

He was often afraid to close his eyes as the image of her seemed embedded in his vision. Her soft face filled with fear as she saw her parents lingering in the courtyard. The look of sadness as she was pulled from his fingers.

He could still feel her tiny fingers gripping his tightly.

_This world is not meant for us._

He missed Elodie fiercely.

It was not until weeks after he let her go that he found himself hiding in the village. The sun was covered by clouds. He could see Elodie's parents lingerng outside of a carriage. Her father shook his head and nodded. Her mother went into a small stone house.

He held his breath as she exited with his Elodie. Elodie was deathly pale. Even from a distance he could see dark shadows under her eyes as if her face had began to sink in, exposing her skeletal form. She walked slowly with the help of her mother. Her tiny frame seems swallowed by the gown and the blanket wrapped about her shoulders.

For a second he felt as he she would collapse on the spot and he would perish with her. She glanced in his direction and his heart lept into his throat. It did not occur to him that she could not see him. Her father lifted her carefully into the carriage as if she were a precious treasure.

Slowly, as if they moved underwater, her parents entered the carriage and the door closed. The horses in the front began to move. The carriage twisted slowly down a small lane before doubling back. The last sight he had Elodie was he gaunt face peering out from behind rich curtains.

He could see death in her eyes.

That afternoon he wandered the rough edge of the cliff. The ocean beat angrily against the rocks below him. The wind smacked into his face until it felt numb. He could hear a howling.

The death in her eyes.

What death did he want now? He had lost again. Christine had been painful enough but Elodie had been his one true companion. This ache felt more painful than any loss he had ever felt before. It rippled through his body continually as if in waves. Each one brought more pain.

He closed his eyes, tears sliding from beneath his lashes.

Perhaps, he thought, the pain was more excruciating because she would die. He could imagine her living. She had looked defeated and exhausted by living. Her face held none of the life she had gained with him. She had became emaciated in the matter of weeks. Never before had she had trouble walking.

He turned his hazy gaze toward the village. This place was haunted now. He could not bear to be there a day longer.

He wandered into the house and into the bedroom. He sat carefully on edge of the mattress before lying his head on the pillows. He breathed in deeply. He would return to Paris. There was nowhere else for him to go. He could not stand the thought of starting over again. He would simply live under the Opera House until the end of his days. Perhaps he could now understand the temptation in wasting away.

The emotions were too much to take.

His fingers became entwined in the quilts and he brought them to his face and sucked in the scent. He would go to Paris and let the rest of his life pass. First, however, he would write.

His mind began to conjure notes and words. The end result was always the same. _**Elodie.**_

---

**A/N**: Yes two in one chapter. Oh well. I really hoped this chapter was too your liking. I promise it will not end so soon. Until next time!


	19. Chapter 19: A Single Rose Petal

**A/N: Sorry this took so long! I kind of got sidetracked with classes and such but the next chapter shouldn't take as long I promise. Enjoy!**

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Chapter Nineteen: A Single Rose Petal

**Six months later**

**Paris**

_**Erik**_

The opera house was easy to readjust to. He had slipped in in the dead of the night. He ventured out often in the same blanket of darkness. Stale air had become a great dislike for him. The city was no more entertaining or comforting but he found he could not sit inside all night. He had grown accustomed to the fresh air his cottage had offered him.

He often wandered toward Christine's house. Rarely, one could spot the man in the heavy cloak standing before the wrought iron gate, staring at the single light blazing in a window. His urge to see Christine once more seemed to evaporate upon his return. He had other things to occupy his mind. He had another woman to mourn now.

He imagined he could feel the moment Elodie Papillion had passed from her body into a spirit world. He had been standing on the ruined stage of the opera house when his heart began to ache painfully as if it had been stabbed. A feeling of dread settled in his stomach and he found himself struggling to maintain a standing position. His head had felt overwhelmed by her. He had felt hollow and quite apathetic ever since.

His composing had not progressed since that day. His music sheets remained scattered over the floor as proof. Instead he began to collect odd trinkets that reminded him of her. Odd metal hooks, lace handkerchiefs, a torn leather strap. In a small box that he hid every night he wandered out, he kept a small scrap of old quilt and a small packet of dried herbs that had lost their smell. This was his proof that she had existed even if he could never see her face again.

He could now be found stowing that same box spoken of and making his way swiftly out of his dungeon. He moved through a damp tunnel, his heavy boots crunching upon a mess upon the stone ground below him. He did not stop until he could feel the night air on his face. He paused for a moment and let the moonlight play about his face.

His daily movements were typical for him but what wasn't typical for his was the way in which all of this felt. An angry and searing pain always seemed to course through his body.

How the world hated him. The opera house, he understood, would always be familiar and as such it would always be slightly comforting no matter the situation. There was also a barren loneliness in the corridors though. He was sure it was partly because the place was deserted. He did wonder if it had anything to do with missing the presence of Elodie.

He shook his head in the night air as he tried to clear his thoughts away. It was no use. She haunted him. More than once he thought he had heard her chirping energetically and nonsensically as she was prone to do. He often found himself turning, trying to capture her but it was all worthless. He knew well enough that he was not there.

He looked behind him to the opera house and grimaced. He began to move. Despite the lack of interest in Christine's abode there was something soft and gentle about it. The glowing of the windows offered a warmth he was attracted to. He did not need a glimpse of her. He simply went there because there was no where else to go.

The night seemed to grow dark as he approached. He stood idly for a moment in front of the house before he pressed his palms upon the iron gate. Momentarily his long fingers curled around the bars and he squeezed as if he were testing their existence.

While he stood he left his mind. It was a soft and empty consideration of nothingness with which he stood there. The blank expression on his face felt oddly natural. It was as if he were holding up a barricade against all unpleasant thought.

He was so absorbed in denying himself a level of consciousness that he did not see a dark silhouette appear in a window on the second floor. The soft lines of a feminine figure stood still as if watching him.

Erik grasped the bars until his knuckles turned white. The he pushed off the gate and turned to leave.

---

He was not fully aware of his path until he spotted the familiar front of a hotel. He did not linger as the sound of soft footstep reverberated behind him. His feet quickly led him down cobbled streets as if he had a destination. As he walked clear images of Elodie appeared. Her face bathed in moonlight as she look up toward the building that had proved the beginning of her unraveling. The boarding school.

It stood beforehim. A building i unchanging but for Erik this one seemed different. He nervously licked his lips. The thought that Elodie could changes so much with her absence startled him. HIs lips began to quiver as they turned down in a frown.

"Damn you Elodie." He whispered to the air. He missed her.

A clicking of shoes behind him caused his concentration to break. He steeled himself for an uncomfortable interrogation. Instead a light hand met his sholder. His heart quickened.

"Erik?" The voice that spoke to him was too concrete in his memory. He turned cautiously.

Standing before him was Christine. She was bundled in a thick cloak which she held tightly around her. The hood was drawn and light glimmered n her pale face. Her brown curls framed her cheeks innocently. The effect was subtle and seductive.

His breath caught in his throat. Her brown eyes searched him thoroughly. Erik could feel tears dwelling dangerously close to the surface. He would not give in. Now was not the time. There would never be a time again.

"Christine." He croaked, trying to calm the tremor in his voice.

They stood awkwardly staring at one another.

"How often do you stand at the gates to my house? She demanded. He blinked at her.

"Not as often as you would presume." He said coldly.

Her face softened. "What is this place?" She asked.

"A boarding school." The silence seemed endless each time he answered a question.

"Do you-"

"No." He cut her off.

"You aren't looking..." She trailed off. He shook his head. He would not share Elodie with her. Elodie was his alone.

"Is there something the matter?' She pressed carefully.

"A realization is always a painful thing." He replied. "One can learn to be lonely but it becomes quite difficult when the world continuously interjects."

Christine studied him in silence for a moment. "Will you walk me home?" She asked. He found he could hardly refuse though he wanted to.

They slowly began to maneuver the streets. Once the boarding school was out of sight she spoke. "Tell me how you have been." She said timidly. He could sense her genuine interest and it bothered him. He wanted to tell her that his life since she had destroyed it was hardly any concern of hers.

She walked beside him, her head titled down as she watched the ground pass beneath them.

"I left Paris." he said. "I had no intention of ever coming back." He did not elaborate.

"Where did you live?"

He scowled. "Near a small village off of a sea shore." He clenched his hands. "It was quiet and peaceful."

"I always wondered how you got on. You know, Erik, I always did worry." She fell silent. "I hoped you wouldn't react to badly in the end."

He laughed sarcastically. "Madame de Chagny," he said airly. "my life would have been nothing compared to the lives I could have taken. Did you think I would rush into a massacre after what happened in the cellars?"

"No." She said quickly. "I worried you would harm yourself in some way." She stopped and grasped his arm unexpectedly. "I never meant to outright hurt you. I cannot help who I love-"

"Nor who you do not."

Her fingers curled around his arm tighter. "I have never wished harm to you, Erik. In the beginning I was upset but I realized that your life, your expectations, your desires, they could not be helped." She let go and started to walk again. "It is hard to speak about the things that have happened." She admitted.

"Yes."

"Why have you returned?"

"It would appear that my life is to be one of gypsy of sorts. I cannot seem to stay planted in one place for very long without disturbances." He glanced up at the moon. "Human beings are far too ready to consort with the likes of me." He let a finger trace his lips absentmindedly.

They walked in silence until her house sprung up before them. She stopped and turned to face him. "I am glad you are alright." She said as she placed a hand gently on his arm. Her eyes scrutinized him and he looked away. "You know, Erik, something about you has changed." She added as she patted his hand. "Goodnight." She said as she went through the gate and up to her door.

Erik's eyes trailed after her.

_Something about you has changed._


	20. Chapter 20: The Flightless Bird

**A/N: Look who updated fast! I didn't want to leave everyone is suspense for too long. I hate when that happens. So here is another chapter. I'm already working on the next one so it shouldn't be long for that one either. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 20: The Flightless Bird

**Erik**

The world seemed colorless when he opened his eyes. The dull reality of his life settled in. He could not, for a moment, remember the life he had had once before. All of his memories seem to have been sucked from him. He could not decide if he liked it or not.

The darkness under the opera house seemed to press in on him and he closed his eyes as he clutched the covers that rested on him.

_Something about you has changed._

Christine was in his memories now. It did not feel right to have it any other way, he realized. The other one, the one it hurt to think of, shouldn't come into his mind ever again. She would remain a constant reminder of sacrifice and failure. Besides, she was gone to the world. There was no point in lamenting her any longer.

He sat hastily and shoved back the quilt. His feet found the cold ground and he stood. He found his way to the old organ and studied the keys carefully. His fingers lightly glided over them. He did not want any sound yet.

Music could solve everything. He could lose himself fully in the music and forget any event that had happened the last year. There was no need to continue on with such masochistic actions.

His finger pressed firmly on a key and the sound seemed to shake the area. He imagined the ceiling quaking. He squeezed his eyes closed. Her face floated in front of him unbidden. He shook his head fiercely. In her place remained a single butterfly. It seemed to glide endlessly on air.

---

There was a dank and musky smell about the dressing rooms. It did not bother him. He surveyed the abandoned bits of the past and contemplated what it meant to let things disappear from all existence in relation to you.

There were little things that bothered him about his memories. She had been a friend. Christine, he had decided, would be the only woman he loved. Still, there were moments were he felt his body quake with anticipation as he thought of the other one.

He knew that he needed to be released from whatever emotions this young woman had pinned on him. He refused to fall prey to another woman he could never have. His loss was of companionship and nothing else.

Eternity denied him anything else.

---

_**four days later**_

He had been foolish. His urge to see Christine seemed strong once again though he could not be sure it was for the same reason it had been prior to the whole affair with the other one. For the second day in a row he climbed his way out of the deep darkness of the Opera Populaire.

His feet led him through the streets until he found Christine's house. There was little to do or say. He merely stood and willed her to see him. Eventually he caught a flicker of a curtain in the front room and he spotted her pale face poking out. She stared at him for a moment before disappearing.

She, as she had the previous night, would follow him after a few hours had passed. Her husband slumbering and her child resting peacefully. Erik paced the stage for a while before he moved out toward the front entrance. He amused himself with thoughts of the Vicomte's face if he discovered his precious wife was meeting with her former angel of music.

He did not hear a door creak open. "Erik," her voice sounded. He glanced up at her. "this cannot be so consistent. I do not have every night free to meet with you." He shook his head and went to her.

"Christine, I am going quite mad." The woman simply glanced at him, her face emotionless. "I cannot seem to grasp any normal concept. My mind seems to be rotting in this place."

"Why stay here then? Why not go back to your seaside village?"

He shook his head aimlessly. "No. I can't. I can't do that." He looked up at the ceiling and wondered what he really meant by trying gain Christine's attention.

"I don't know what you expect of me." She said with frustration. "I have a family and a life of my own. I cannot-"

"Shh." He said hastily as he placed a finger to his lips. "I want to say this quickly." He continued quietly. "I don't know how long I can maintain the nerve to speak of...of this." His words were racing ahead of him. He wanted to call out and bring them back. "I feel like I am losing everything to the memory of her."

He hardly noticed when Christine raised a hand to her chest in an uncertain fist.

"It is of no use because she is dead. I don't know what I am doing by wondering of her as much. This place," he said as he waved his arms. "was untouched by her but even here I cannot be rid of these cursed memories." He looked at her, his eyes wide, pleading. "Christine what do I do?" Her own eyes grew wide with concern. "How do I lose all thought of her? How do I make her leave me be?" His voice sounded unsteady and he wondered if she caught the wavering tremors.

Christine bit the corner of her lip and looked at her gloved hands. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Elodie!" He yelled with aggravation. "The damn woman is a plague on my mind! I cannot turn off my mind to her. I try to steer my thoughts away and it always comes back to her some how." He raised his palms and brought them to his forehead as though it ached. Perhaps it did.

"Elodie?" Christine's voice asked curiously.

Erik moved his hands to his ears. Was this it? Was he finally going mad? Would he wither away talking to himself? Would he do something worse? His heart throbbed at the memory of Elodie crying on the stage as she looked upon the devastation he had caused. He could not pretend that he had the capacity for murder. What would stop him if he were to go insane?

"Erik, what is happening?"

As suddenly as the torrent of thoughts had started they stopped and he was left feeling empty again. He shook his head slowly. "She has destroyed me, Christine." His fingers gently touched the mask upon his face.

"You're in love." Christine said with surprise.

Erik's head shot up and he glared at her. She smiled lightly. It was enchanting. "Love is not a word I would use when speaking about myself and that woman." He ignored the last night they had spent in Paris. He ignored her declaration and her tears. She was gone and if he could not allow himself to love her in life he certainly could not in death.

"You fool of a man." She said softly. "I know love because I love Raoul. I know that this is different from your...our..." She faltered uncomfortably. "Perhaps all of this was a bad idea."

"No!" He said quickly. "If you would not speak with me I would surely lose my mind. Please, Christine. I beg of you."

"Listen," she said sternly. "there is too much here for one person to deal with. Especially one person who should not be dealing with you, Erik. I cannot offer you much else but my opinion. This is not the Erik I knew. You've changed. She must have changed you."

"I did not mean for her to have changed me."

"Erik, not all love will end badly."

"Love is meant for others." He spat angrily, tears welling in his eyes with his weariness.

"Love," she said as she wrenched her cloak tighter about her. "is not as selective as you perceive it to be." He glanced at her with uncertain eyes. "I must be getting back home."

"I will accompany you." He said dutifully.

The night seemed colder. Christine often shivered and laughed at her own actions. Erik did not feel obliged to indulge her as he might have once done. As they neared her home she slowed and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Not all changes are bad."

He scoffed and turned his head away. "This is hardly an improvement." He said. "I can barely seem to function properly." His bitterness was ripe.

"Love does strange things. It changes you." She reached for her gate and held it for a moment. "I know how this woman has changed you." She declared. He waited for her to offer an explanation. "You're softer now."

He stood dumbfounded as she disappeared.

---

He usually did not go out in daylight. It was a standard rule. There was not much point when one walked around with a gleaming white mask that covered half of his face. The questions and stares were not worth it.

This day, however, he needed the sunlight. He had contemplated the roof but decided he needed something else. So with great caution he left the Opera Populaire. He wandered the streets carefully. He put space between the passing people and himself and he let his hood cover most of his face.

The gentle chatter was not appealing.

He stopped for a moment, leaning against a wall to let a group pass. As he pressed his body tightly against the brick he looked up and spotted a familiar face. He narrowed his eyes, sure they were playing tricks on him. Her face was fuller now, her gaunt features fleshed out. Her lips were no longer thin and she had no dark circles under her eyes. He watched in awe as she turned her head away and smiled at an elderly man beside her. Her form was still slender but it did not look deathly.

He could feel his foot stepping forward. The woman looked at him suddenly and his heart clanged in his chest. Her large eyes held his for a moment and her face went blank. She blinked and her mouth opened in a startled expression.

He raised a hand unaware of a couple passing in front of him.

"Watch it." The man said. Erik jumped back, looking away from the woman. When he looked back up she stood there still. Her mouth opened and he could see his name tumbling out. His face felt hot and his body filled with anticipation.

"Elodie." He said loudly. The old man beside her tugged on her arm. She was being pulled away from him. "Elodie!" He called. She turned to look over her shoulder, her large eyes now uncertain. Erik felt his body taking large steps to try to catch up with her. Quite suddenly a woman not much older than Elodie grasped her arm. She looked much like the old man with them. Her mouth fluttered rapidly and he watched as Elodie stood entranced. A smile broke out upon her face and Erik felt a snapping in his mind.

The family, he now concluded, stood on the spot chattering away idly. He slowly let himself slip into the background. He was sure she had forgotten the glimpse of him she had gained. Positive either he was seeing things or she believed she was.


	21. Chapter 21: Resurrection

**A/N: Yay for another chapter! Sorry to keep you all in suspense about Elodie. [=**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One: Resurrection

_**Elodie**_

She woke with the sun in her eyes as she had for the past 6 months of her life. She felt grateful for every ray of light that blinded her in the morning as she turned her face to the window. She often had to peel her eyelids open as they were heavy with sleep. Her limbs still felt heavy and she suspected they always would.

She now managed a morning meal with her mother each day. Though she was growing tired of her mother's constant worrying. Her father was regaining some of his warmth. Elodie knew how much pain she had caused them.

"That's all over with." She said to herself as she stood and touched the edge of her bed as if she were afraid of falling over. "Things are different now."

She busied herself with pushing clothing around her wardrobe until a loud tap echoed in her room. She glanced up, tendrils of brown hair falling her face. "Who is it?" She asked as she tucked the hair behind her ears with a smile. She was glad to be finally be able to have her hair back to normal.

"Your sister." Madeleine's voice came through the wood. Elodie felt her eyes narrow. Her sister was utterly suspicious of her. She watched her every move like a hawk and always sat close to their mother. Two years older than Elodie, she should have not cared as much but she had nothing but her family. Her husband had been killed in a boating accident and she had lost their first and only child not much later.

"Come in, Madeleine." She said in a forced sing-song voice.

Her sister entered carefully as if she were afraid of provoking the beast within. "How are you feeling?" She asked as she looked intently at her with her blue-gray eyes.

"Quite well. The sun is out and that always improves my mood."

Her sister let her hand land on a bureau and lean slightly on it. "I have good news." Elodie was aware of the slight light in her sister's eyes. She was excited. It was something Madeleine did not express often. Her sister was often trailing about the garden or sitting still while her mother chattered away. Losing her own family had taken the life out of Madeleine. Elodie could still remember them as children.

Before Madeleine became a proper young lady and Elodie began a journey of punishment they often giggled and rolled in the grass by the small pond in the garden. They wold braid flower crowns and place them on each others heads and race around the garden. Madeleine had been about to teach Elodie how to play violin when Elodie began to get in trouble for misbehaving.

"Elodie?" Her sister asked cautiously.

She shook her head. "Yes. I'm fine. I was just reminiscing." Her sister's mouth broke out into a small smile. "What is the news?"

She watched as her sister's smile grew. "Papa and mother are taking us to Paris for the weekend." Elodie felt her heart beat harshly in her chest.

"Really?"

"Yes. It was mother's idea, really." Elodie could not believe it. She had trouble believing anything these days. "It is to be a special treat for you, especially." Her sister said as she stepped closer to her. She came close enough to grasp her sister's hands. "Elodie, we are so proud of you."

Elodie smiled and squeezed her sister's hands. "Madeleine, do you think this is meant to be?" Her sister's confused look made her smile. "This trip to Paris. I have been missing Paris so. I cannot wait to go!"

"I am sure." Her sister said. "Mother wants you down for breakfast in five minutes." She concluded. She turned to leave, only looking back over her shoulder to add, "I expect she'll share everything with you."

---

The week after Elodie had returned home was one of the most painful and haunting weeks of her life. She could hardly sleep for the pain in her body and when she did sleep it was not something she wished to experience.

Her dreams were too colorful and filled with unnamed emotions. She began to doubt her very existence. In her waking moments she often babbled nonsense and felt her body twitching. There was a moment when she grasped her mother's hands wildly and started shouting about a forest.

"Maman, on the edge of the forest you can see how far the ocean stretches."

"Elodie what are you talking about?"

"The forest on the edge of the property. Or maybe it is the property. You can see the cottage just barely. I sat there once at night."

"Elodie." Her mother said nervously.

"And he found me in the forest. Or maybe I found him. I can't remember."

"Who?"

"I-I can't-"

"Elodie." Her father had said loudly, silencing her whimpering as she shook under the quilts. "There was no man. You were dreaming."

"Dreaming?" She asked as tears formed in her eyes.

Her father did not respond. She felt the tears slicing through her skin. It hurt too much.

"But it seemed so real." She said as she weakly grasped the fabric in her hands.

When she had cleared the door of death and had started her recovery she never spoke of the forest again. Nor the man who seemed to determined to appear in her dreams. When she thought of him her heart ached and besides, she was starting to believe it had all been a dream anyway.

---

Paris was just as she had remembered it. Full of life. It made her feel at home. She knew she should have been born and raised in Paris. The city, in essence, was her. Or perhaps it was the other way around.

Her father walked dutifully beside her, watching as she eyed everything with love. Her sister and mother were up ahead a ways.

"Papa, do you remember the opera you took me to?" She asked with a smile as she watched a couple saunter past them.

"Yes." He said gently. "You went on about it for days. It was spectacular."

"I still think of it when I dream." She announced as a smile broke out even broader on her face. "I wish I had been trained in voice." She said with a small giggle.

"Elodie, you would have been the star."

She smiled and turned her head to look across the street swarming with people. Her heart seemed to stop in her chest. Her large eyes took in the sight of the man from her dreams. She felt her eyes sting with wetness and her mouth open slightly as she gasped as silently as she could.

He stood there, a dark cloak over his face but she could tell it was him. His eyes seemed trained on her. Her mind raced. She suddenly knew his name. "Erik." She said as she felt her heart begin to thump painfully in her chest.

Her father tugged gently on her arm. "Elodie, what is wrong?" He began to pull her gently after her sister and mother. She craned her neck to see the man still standing there.

She licked her lips, preparing to tell him she had been seeing things when Madeleine raced up to them. She grabbed Elodie's arm, her eyes large with wonder. "Papa, is it true?" She asked with surprise as she eyed her sister with delight.

"Is what true?" She asked with concern as she watched her sister and father smile at each other.

"It is." Her father said.

"Elodie! Mother just told me. Oh you will look splendid."

"For what?" She asked confused.

"Mother told me that you have been invited to a party hosted by Madame de Chagny, the former soprano of the Opera Populaire. She said she has met you before when you were in Paris and she wanted to call on you but decided this would be much more fun. It is tomorrow! Papa is buying you new clothing for it."

Elodie felt a smile grace her lips. "Papa." She said said with delight. "Oh this is too wonderful!" She grasped her sister's hand and her fathers and grinned. It was only once they began to move again that she remember the man who's name she suddenly recalled. She looked back and could not see him.

_You're seeing things Elodie._ She told herself.


	22. Chapter 22: L'étoile

Chapter Twenty-two: L'etoile

_**Elodie**_

Her mind felt a bit like a storm swelling. It often hit about, causing her to become quite confused. She wondered if it would be a lasting effect of her self-punishment, her endless starvation.

She sat on her bed in the Paris hotel, her fingers aqueezing the bridge of her nose. Her head ached painfully. Her family had allowed her to rest when she had stated that she felt quite ill suddenly.

Names and places flickered in her mind. When she closed her eyes for too long they overtook her and made her feel naseous. She let her eyes fly open and put her head down on the bed. The spinning stopped immediately. She sighed and let her feet swing as they hung off the edge of the bed.

Christine de Chagny knew her. She knew Christine. She remember meeting her in Paris. She couldn't remember how or why she had been alone in Paris but she remember the woman. The face was fleeting and gentle. It also recalled something bigger that she couldn't quite glimpse.

After consenting to sleep, Elodie's mind thrust her back into confusion.

_She stood on the edge of the world, it seemed. Her body remained stiff but her soul wanted to fly out over the darkness before her. Around her were seats of a theatre. The once red velvet was scorched. The glass sparkled on the ground. Sounds thundered indistinctly in her ears. A man. _

_She wanted to turn but the darkness called to her. There was such sorrow in the darkness. She wanted to comfort it. She reached a hand out, feeling the empty space around her. _

_"Elodie." His voice whispered periously close to her ear. She spun in fear, her body swaying further towards the dead space. She felt her body tipping into the precipe. She opened her mouth to scream but there was no need. His strong hands had clasped around her thin wrists and pulled her to him._

_Tears were wet on her cheeks as he held her to him."I never meant to lose you, Elodie." His deep voice whimpered. Her breath caught in her throat. "Even I should not deserve this. Please. Elodie. Come back to me."_

_She could not move nor speak. She felt trapped. She wanted to look upon him as his voice pulled at her heart but she felt encased in ice. Her tears now felt like scalding knives ripping across her cheeks. _

_She was a slave to her own mind._

Slave. She woke with a start. Her eyes were blurred and she had to blink several times to clear them. She was startled when she saw the sun dipping behind the buildings on the horizon. She hardly took notice of the sweat on her forehead as she pushed herself up from the mattress.

Her fingers quickly claimed a shawl and found their way to the doorknob which she turned brutally. She slammed it shut behind her before she raced down the hall and out of the hotel.

---

The streets were much less forgiving in the setting sun. She felt shivers race up her spine as she hurried past smatterings of men and women. Her head was empty but her feet traced out her intentions.

She did not stop until she found herself in front of an old and ruined building. Her heart raced as she struggled to regain her breath. The Opera Populaire she had once been to before looked haunted. She did not want to go in but she had traveled so quickly through the streets to reach this place. She peered about her before darting inside the building.

The dark seemed to immediately swallow her. A terrified whimper escaped her throat. She dug her nails into her palms and moved slowly towards the theatre. The charred internal of the opera house seemed a warning she did not heed. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the lack of light and she found herself gazing on the shadowy edges of the seats and the far away stage.

The glass seemed to chime under her feet as she walked unsteadily towards the stage. She paused only once to stare at the skeleton of the chandelier. Once she had made it to the stage she hoisted herself up and stood on shak legs.

"Are you here?" She called out quietly. She knew there would be no response. She bit her lip and called out louder, "Are you here?" The silence bit into her. "I feel like you are, whoever you are? Please. I just need to know..." She shook her head. She felt foolish, believing her dreams so readily.

_**Erik**_

He sat in box five, surveying the darkness of the once grand theatre. It was filled with such memories, none terribly pleasant. Christine. Elodie. He stared intently at the spot where he had held Elodie and wished her into existence there. He practically yelped in surprise when he saw a form move to stand in the spot.

His trained eyes quickly picked out the shawl, the hair, the pale skin. His skin began to sweat. He almost stood but she had moved into action and he found himself planted to the seat. He watched as she climbed onto the stage and stood, staring out at the abandoned wreckage before her.

He could hear her voice faintly as her lips moved. His hands balled into fists.

"Are you here?" Her voice echoed much louder. His legs wanted to jump up immediately but he willed them to remain as they were. "I feel like you are, whoever you are? Please. I just need to know..." Her voice trailed away.

_I am here, _he screamed internally. _I am here, Elodie. _

All that came was silence.

She stood for a moment before speaking to herself. "You foolish girl." She shook her head emphatically. "It's dark now and you have to walk your way through the streets. Why don't you think?" She cursed herself.

He stood as she slowly moved off the stage and back towards the entrance to the opera house. He followed silently as she left and shivered in the cool night. His footsteps remained undetected as he traced her path not far behind as she weaved through streets now practically empty of people. More than once he though he heard her sob.

He did not stop moving until she slipped inside a warm hotel. He watched from a distance as she disappeared up a staircase.

Elodie would always be safe, he decided, as long as she remained in Paris.

_**Elodie**_

Christine de Chagny smiled upon her warmly as she stepped into the salon of her home. A small gathering of women in fine dressed sat about the equisite furniture. Madame de Chagny stood and kissed her cheeks with delight. "Elodie, I am so glad you could come. You are looking quite well."

"Thank you, Madame-"

"Christine, please."

Elodie smiled shyly as she nodded. She drifted in and out of the introductions Christine conducted, letting her eyes alight upon the mantle of the fireplace. Draped carefully along the ledge was a black ribbon and placed lightly between photographs of her family was a porecelin mask. It struck a chord in Elodie and she had to look away.

It was not real, she told herself. This would span the entire face. This was not his mask.

_Who's mask? _Her mind asked curiously.

"Would you like some tea?" Christine said, breaking her concentration.

"Oh, yes please." She said absently. She let Christine guide her to a spot where she sat.

"Afterwards, we shall go for a walk in the garden behind the house." Christine said. "It is not big but it is lovely all the same."

Elodie nodded with the other women.

The women chattered and Elodie sunk back from them. She glanced up more than once to spot Christine's eyes searching her thoroughly.

She was only to eager to stand once they had finished their tea and talk. The women slowly made their way out into the main hall and down the carpeted aisle. The moved together with a swishing of skirts and Elodie hung back once more, terrified of their familiarity. Instead of conversing she let her fingers wander around the fabric of her new dress and trace invisible lines across the skirt.

"Are you alright?" Christine asked beside her.

"Oh!" She exclaimed as she turned to smile. "Yes. I'm afraid I'm not terribly sociable." She said, remembering how her mother had once said she was too social.

"I invited you to talk you. You need not bother with the others." She said kindly. "They are kind women but I doubt someone as young as yourself could find interest in their conversations." They walked for a bit before Christine spoke again. "You saw him yesterday." She said quite determinedly.

"What?" Elodie felt her skin prickle. "Who?"

Christine studied her curiously. "Nevermind." She said. "You have been well. You look quite healthy these days."

"I am much better. They did not believe I would make it." She said without embarrassment. "Life is a blessing I was not going to give up." She listened to the click of their heels as they exited the house.

The garden was indeed small but glorious. Small wispy trees surrounded a small maze of flowers and potted plants. Benches were placed haphazardly around the area. She smiled as a light breeze met her skin. Christine sat on a bench and patted the spot beside her. "Who were you speaking of?" Elodie enquired as she sat. Christine shook her head.

"I must have been mistaken."

"I saw a man yeserday," she confided. "who seemed so familiar in my heart but it was only fleeting. I think I must be imagining things." She peered at Christine out of the corner of her eye. The other woman's face became laced with a stern frown and a worried brow. "For a moment I even thought he recognized me but I am sure I conjured him up completely. For you see I had a dream about the abandoned opera house and when I woke I went there because I felt like, whoever he was, he would be there. He was not though. There was no one. My mother has always said I have an overactive imagination."

"Perhaps." Christine said slowly.

"Do you know a man named Erik?" She asked suddenly, remembering the name that had came to her mind yesterday as she had stared at the half-masked face. Christine's face went blank. She shook her head too quickly.

"I've had many strange dreams since I returned home. It is hard to remember what has existence and what doesn't. I feel as if I must doubt everything, always guessing whether I am truly sane or not."

"Elodie, I have a friend." Christine said quietly. "I would very much like to introduce you to him." Elodie smiled lightly as she turned fully to Christine. "You musn't be too eager." She said quickly. "And you musn't be blunt and honest. He is very sensitive. He is very sad."

Elodie felt taken up by the childish joy she had once felt, the unburdened excitement. "Is he much like me? I would so like to meet someone who can understand the things I say. I cannot even understand myself." She said with a laugh.

"I think you will understand each other very well. He is not ordinary." She warned. "He is not handsome." She added as an afterthought.

Elodie frowned with confusion. "When will I meet him?"

"I will ask you parents if you may accompany me to a theatre performance tomorrow. I will introduce you then."

Elodie smiled and grasped Christine's hands suddenly. "I knew you were a wonderful person from my memories. I knew it must be true for you are too gentle and kind not to be." She looked at Christine with an excited smile. "May I see your son?"

_**Erik**_

Christine stood waiting in her garden. He wondered why she looked so troubled. The minute he stood beside her she turned her dark eyes upon him. "Erik," she began uncertainly. "I am afraid she does not remember you."

"Nonsense." He said with impatience. "She will remember once we speak." He did not want to admit to himself what he feared was the truth.

"I don't-"

"I do." He cut her off. "I know Elodie. She could not have completely forgotten me."

Christine shook her head, her brown curls swaying around her face. "Erik, do you not understand? She believes you to be a figment of her imagination, a dream from her sickness." She grasped his arms and shook him gently. "You do not exist to her. You are merely part of a dream world."

"No." He said with a dry throat.

"I knew from the moment I saw her. She only remembers things selectively."

"She remembered you!" He said angrily.

"I cannot control her memory."

"Why will you not let me speak with her?" He asked angrily.

"I have told you she does not remember you!"

"You have no idea how painful this is. Months, I spent thinking she had died. Yet now we have discovered she lives and you say it is not time for me to speak with her. I saw her first. I knew she was living before you. I should never have told you. I should have spoken to her myself. I would have no need of you any longer." I stared her down. "I am sick of being told what to do especially by you."

Christine looked guiltly at her hands. "I must confess that I invited her before you saw her yesterday." He furrowed his brow in confusion.

"What does that mean?" He asked hesitantly.

"I-I knew she was alive."

His eyes grew large with rage. "For how long?" He yelled. "Would you have let me further disintegrate into a mess rather than tell me?"

"Erik, you must understand-"

"What importance is she to you? Why, Christine, why would you keep that from me?"

"I wanted to test the water before you knew." She said sadly. "I did not want this to happen. I did not want you to discover her only to realize that she does not remember anything of you but ephermal images."

He shook his head.

"I told her I wanted her to meet a friend. I will introduce her to you. Maybe-"

Erik spat fiercely on the ground. "She will remember nothing." He said as his stomach began to ache and his chest felt hallow.

"Erik, you must give her a chance. She might understand something of her dreams once you meet. Just be near Tolousse's tomorrow night."

Erik nodded reluctantly, unsure if he would make an appearance at all. Unsure if his tattered heart could take the pain of her rejection or the gap between them.


	23. Chapter 23: Mistaken

**A/N: I am so so so sorry this chapter has taken so long to get up. Midterms, it appears, has extended until finals which start the week after next. I have been so incrediby busy I didn't have time to write it until today. I hope you all are still willing to read it. I can promise that another chapter will be up by next week this time since it is a holiday and I will have time off. Thanks for reading!**

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Chapter Twenty-Three: Mistaken

_**Elodie**_

Christine seemed overly anxious beside her but she easily brushed it aside. She told herself that the mother was craving to be much nearer to her son. Elodie's hands shook despite herself. She could easily disguise it but it bothered her none the less. She had no reason to be so full of nerves. Every now and then she found herself pinching herself quite hard in an attempt to calm herself.

The carriage seemed intent to move on endlessly. She began counting the bumps and jostles to distract herself further. Every second seemed to last an eternity. It was some time before Christine smiled at her as the carriage slowed to a stop. "Elodie, we are here." She said with strained glee. Elodie could feel the tension surrounding the woman. She forced a smile and followed her careful out onto the street.

The theatre before them was large and well lit. The interiors glowed with warm light. Men and women swarmed the entrance and lingered in the interiors. "Where are we?" She whispered as she pressed close beside Christine.

"Toulouse Theatre." Christine said as she looked towards the shadowy edges of the building. "The former own, Toulouse Brouchet, is deceased. God rest his soul. His company still grows continually under his ward's care."

"His ward?"

"Yes. A fine manager and an amateur playwright. Perhaps I will introduce you later." She said absently as she grasped Elodie's elbow and moved her toward the door.

"Lovely." Elodie said as she felt the light glowing on her skin. "My parents are quite grateful that you have taken an interest in me." She said as she let her mouth open with wonder at the gilded interiors. "This is lovely." Her eyes fittered between walls and people.

"Wait until you see the stage." Christine said with a laugh. "Will you excuse me just a moment?" She said nervously as she glance back out into the night. Elodie nodded with uncertainty and watched as Christine slipped back outside and out of sight. Once alone Elodie felt waves of anxiety begin to smash into her with great force. She struggled to hold her shaking knees in place.

The wish to sink into the wall was quite strong and she preoccupied herself with imagining. Her eyes closed and she held her breath. When a hand touched her arm, which happened to be crossed over her stomach, she let out a yelp and almost fell unceremoniously to the floor. "Forgive me, miss." A strained voice said.

Elodie glanced up to see a man with dark hair and a chiseled face staring at her anxiously. She nodded her head and eyed him curiously. "I did not mean to startle you." He continued slowly. "You did not look well and I could not help but ask if you are in need of anything. Are you?"

"No." She said quickly. "I mean, thank you but no. I am fine."

"You are here all alone?" He asked, his strong brow furrowing.

"No. I am here with Christine de Chagny."

The man's face lit up with excitement. "Ah, Christine. How wonderful. She is a dear friend. She and her husband are frequent guests to my theatre."

"Your theatre?" She questioned as she blinked. "You are the ward? The playwright?"

"What? No, no, she flatters me so. A ward, yes. A writer of plays, not in the least. I dabble but it is nothing."

"To write anything of remote connection with the arts is a gift. I can imagine you are better than what you give yourself credit for." Elodie said. A blush crept over her cheeks as she realized how forward she was being. The man smiled at her.

"May I tell you a secret?" He asked, his smile unmoving, as he leaned in toward her sightly. She nodded and leaned in as well. "I rather hate this crowd before a show. I am not as good as socializing as Tolouse was." The man leaned back and laughed. Elodie felt a smile cross her face. She let out a small giggle.

"Well, it is good to know I am not the only one who is uncomfortable here."

"I am Alexander Broucher, humble owner of this theatre." He said as h extended his hand. Elodie glanced toward the door. Elodie was no where to be seen.

"It is a pleasure, Monsieur Broucher. I am Elodie Papillion, owner of nothing I am afraid." Alexander laughed delighted.

"Where has Christine been keeping you? You are wonderfully charming."

"No, I-I am not really." She said with a stammer. "I am just too honest I am afraid."

"Well, it is a pleasure in any case, Mademoiselle Papillion." He took her hand and kissed it with a brush of his lips. Heat rose to Elodie's face once again and she pressed her free hand to a cheek. She feared that she would forever be a permanent shade of scarlet if this continued.

_**Erik**_

Christine's figure appeared in front of him. "Erik?" She whispered loudly.

"Yes." He responded as he stepped toward her.

"She is here, in the theatre."

"Christine, this is not the best idea. It is too crowded here. There will never be a moment of quiet."

"Well this is your only chance." She said with anticipation. "You do want to see her, to speak to her again, don't you?"

"Of course." He said as he stared at her.

"You will have to meet us here after the show."

"You could not have told me this before?" He asked angrily. "What makes you think I would want to wait here for two and a half hours?"

"You love her. That is what made me think. Besides I would have no other time to tell you to be here when it ends. We will meet you here while we wait for the carriage. You will accompany us to her hotel. That should be ample time."

He nodded, certain that something would go amiss. "What should you do if she reacts badly? What will we do if she is afraid of me?" He inquired with great difficulty.

"We will let you out at the nearest corner."

"Christine-"

"This is the only chance _I_ can give you, Erik. You can take it or not." She said in a hurried whisper. "I must go back in now but I do hope you are here after the play."

"I will be." He said as he watched Christine turn her back and walk away. "I will be here."

The hours passed slowly while he stood waiting. Boredom quickly crept into his mind and he found himself counting the number of footsteps he could hear, the seconds in a minute, the amount of time he could go holding his breath in a final excited state of anticipation.

No sound came to him from inside the theatre. There was no amusement to be had so he eventually settled on memorizing what he would say to Elodie. The words he wanted to say always seemed to fall short of his expectations. He always sounded too foolish and lame when he quietly rehearsed them out loud.

_"Elodie, I have missed you. No-no that won't do. What do you say to the woman who has been tormenting you for a year? We meet again? You're alive? You don't know who I am but you once lived with me after escaping from an asylum where you were being kept because you refused food? We abused each other religiously? Erik, you are pathetic."_

_"Elodie, I know this is confusing. I know you do not remember me but I know that you know me. Even if it is from what you see as a dream. See, I am real. I am here. You are here. This is-"_

Erik was cut short by the first wave of exiting patrons of the theatre. They were animatedly talking and his breath caught in his throat as he hurled himself farther into the shadows. His heart thumped wildly in his chest.

Each woman that passed made his heart race. Each woman made his heart break as he realized it was not her. Minutes passed the throngs disappeared. He listened intently waiting for a familiar voice.

"Well, Alexander, I am pleased that you found Elodie so charming but I really must be getting her home." Christine's voice said.

"Of course." A male voice said. "I would not want to bring trouble to either of you."

"I have been in much more trouble than arriving to a hotel late." Elodie's eager voice said.

"All the same." Christine said. Their voices drew nearer. He could see the outlines of three bodies. "The carriage will be here shortly." Christine said in a dismissive tone.

"Then I had best wait with you until it arrives." The man said. Erik felt his blood surge. "I would feel quite guilty leaving two women out in the dark alone. You never know what sort of creatures lurk in the shadows."

Elodie giggled. "Oh, Monsieur-"

"Alexander, Mademoiselle."

"Creatures of the night? You think we are prey waiting to be taken?" She continued without speaking his name.

"Not prey, mademoiselle but a treasure. Strange men like pretty things and you two are quite a lovely offering. I shall not leave you to fend for yourself." He said with faux gallantry.

"Oh, Alex." Christine said, a bitterness lacing her otherwise smooth voice. "You are such a clown." Her laugh ringed with inacuracy. It seemed to go unnoticed by the younger woman or the man.

"Mademoiselle, it has been a honor to meet you tonight." The man said awkwardly. "I would not think there is such a wonderful being in all the world. To think that my dear Christine has been hiding you, it is a shame." He said playfully.

Erik felt his hands curl into fists.

"You flatter me, monsieur."

"That is my intention." He said adventurously. The blood in Erik's veins seemed to reach a boiling point. His heart hammered painfully fast in his chest.

"Alexander!" Christine said curtly. "You flirtatious dog!" The man laughed.

"I am only being honest, Christine. It is something I believe the mademoiselle is fond of."

"I am." Elodie said eagerly, her body swaying closer to his.

"I am amazed you two met while I was arranging the carriage ride home before the performance. You don't miss a beat, Alexander."

"Christine," He said with a serious air. "I feel that two people alike are drawn to one another. Kindred souls seek each other out. I cannot be blamed for discovering her before you could introduce us." He seemed quite wounded and it aggravated Erik to an unbearable degree. "You know better than anyone that I am no play boy."

Before more words could be exchanged the carriage interrupted. Christine's voice was muffled by the clattering of the wheels. He watched as the man took Elodie's hand and kissed it before repeating the motion with Christine. His eyes narrowed as the man disappeared from his view.

The silence did not last before Elodie began to chatter. "Oh Christine, he is wonderful. To think you warned me about him being sensitive. He is much like I am. You know, he did not stop to stare at me once when I said something so utterly foolish I thought I would die."

"Elodie-"

"I must thank you for this, Christine. I have felt quite out of place since I have regained my health but I feel as if I do have a place after all." With that Elodie climbed into the waiting carriage.

Christine stood for a moment, unmoving. She turned slowly to look into the shadows. "I am sorry Erik. This is not what I intended."

He wanted to curse at her, to bellow and moan. He wanted to tell her be gone. His lips would not move. His tongue remained stiff in his mouth. His throat seemed to close and his mouth became dry. There was no response his body could give.

"I am sorry Erik. Please forgive me."

He could not make any sound until the carriage had started to pull away from the spot where he remained hidden. The noise that came from his being was something that startled even him. The wail seemed to echo off of the walls and into the open night. He only wished Christine would hear to know just how much pain she had caused him.


	24. Chapter 24: Sunken World

**A/N: Here's another chapter! I plan to have another one up by the end of this weekend. I feel as if I am on a roll! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you for reading. **

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Chapter Twenty-Four: Sunken World

_**Erik**_

_The world is an exclusive place devised to weed out individuals not meant to exist. Its inhabitants are prime in their ability to isolate and destroy. Inferiority and superiority are all there is. _

_When you're a monster, equality cannot exist._

_What you are born with determines what you shall be. The world is not a willing place to accept the differences. To be deemed incurable of your unlovable face, of you sadistic manslaughter, of your unwilting bloodlust is a curse from above._

_This city breeds solitude in individuals like me. An individual like me. There are no others. A wanderer, cursed by blood too unstable to stay still. Doomed to run from place to place, hiding from eyes that seek to hate you and the voice always in your head._

_It is time to learn that the only fool-proof way to outrun self-hatred is to die._

_**Elodie**_

In her dream there was nothing but darkness. A shadow reality. She could hear voices she thought she knew. She could feel emotions she remembered only briefly. Everything was murky and nothing was right. Her second voice, safely buried inside for short time, was screaming at her with anger. That inner demon was yelling her faults into her unsecured mind. She ached. Something was not right.

She awoke in a sweat. The room felt chilled. The silence pressed in upon her. Her fingers clenched the sheets and released in a rhythmic motion. Her head felt as if it were splitting in two. She wanted to sob out loud but was terrified of the outward show of weakness. She did not want the ghosts within to see the crack in her armor and beat their way back to the surface.

The shadows were so alluring. There was something dangerous lurking in the shades of disintegrating light. Somewhere further inside, she knew, was a treasure buried inside of the immovable darkness. She could not stand the urge she felt to rush in and capture it with her fingers, never letting go.

What was she to do? There was a desperate need to find the vital point that was missing. Something did not seem to be present in her memories. There was a broken link. Something had been taken away, leaving her certain of the uneven addition of her life.

"What are you?" She whispered into the darkness. Tears flitted at the corners of her eyes. "Where are you?"

_**Erik**_

Despair was a loving mistress. It left him spiraling into the darkness of the underground lair of the Opera Populaire. All night he had been sitting in silence. Had he bothered to light a candle it might have improved his mood just a little. He didn't have the heart to move. The feelings coursing through his body were not the agonizing pain he had thought he would experience. Instead they were a blank empty hole that seemed to swallow him. This lack of emotion startled him at first until he realized it was protecting his heart.

His ears welcomed the silence. The simplicity of nothing impressed him. There were no thoughts that seemed organic. This apathy told him that it was there to keep the fear, the hurt, out. He could feel those unwanted emotions gnawing at the edges of his makeshift protection. He would not let them in. Nothing, he decided, was better than feeling at this moment. Heartbreak was too painful to encounter yet again.

A series of footsteps shook him out of his trance. He did not jump to his feet with anger. He merely remained sitting, waiting for what would come regardless.

"Erik?" Christine's voice echoed off of the stone walls. "Are you here?"

_What are you doing here, Christine? Will Raoul not be growing suspicious of your late night wanderings?_

"Erik, please answer me? I know you must be here." Her footsteps seemed to come ever closer before disappearing into the silence. "This darkness, it is not right. Your silence is not right." He listened as she stumbled in the pitch black space before him.

"There is no right or wrong, Christine." His voice said, startling him. "Only an emptiness that surrounds you."

"Erik-"

"This emptiness does not want you. You should not be here."

"Erik, I had to come-"

"For what? Apologies are worthless in hell, Christine. Do not taint this space with fake grief. I do not need your words to soothe me. I am quite fine."

The silence that followed was restless.

"Quite fine?" Her voice wavered. "Erik, I would go back in time to change the events of tonight if I could. You must believe me. This was not my intention." She paused and he felt anger brewing in his mind. "This can be fixed." She declared loudly. "I will simply tell her the truth. She will understand, I am sure, if I explain it carefully."

"Leave it be, Christine." His voice bellowed. "There is no need for me in her life. It is best this way. I do not need your remedies for I am not ill."

"But Erik-"

"There is no space in the world above for me!" He yelled as he stood quickly. His body trembled with anger. "There are no people that will accept me nor is there compassion or understanding that can be offered to me. I am not meant for that place. Solitude is my only comfort and I can accept that. Why must you aggravate me further with this futile talk of _your_ redemption? This night was not a series of mistakes. It was destiny. I accept my fate, will you accept yours and let me be?"

"No." Her voice sounded so light he imagined it floating upwards and disintegrating into the heavy air. He fumbled for words to say to her, finding nothing. His hands balled into fists. "There is no fate, Erik, not when it comes to love. You taught me that once. Love is about the choices you make. You can choose to conquer your so called fate, you can choose to make your own destiny. You simply do not want to. I will fix what I have done tonight and you can do what you will. All I can do is offer you a better chance."

Her retreating footsteps made him laugh. It ehcoed maliciously in the underground caverns. "Such pretty, messy words Christine. One can easily get lost in their simple beauty. I am not so easily fooled. Do not pretend that fate is but an illusion. Do not cover up your guilt with words of thought. Your fate may not exist to you but that is simply because you have been born into the light. You believe in your own free will to triumph over what is handed to you. You and I are different beings. You are in my darkness, Christine. You had best leave before it swallows you whole."

Her footsteps started again and he was gripped by a strong fit of laughter. The maniacal sounds continued long into the night.

_**Elodie**_

There once was a place, she knew, where she felt she belonged. A person, she felt, who she needed and who needed her. A peaceful solitude existed. One person in solitude breeds misery but two in solitude breeds a deep companionship. Something was not right.

She sat with her mother in a moving carriage, her mind wandering as they traveled toward a place she had not bothered to learn of. Her mother seemed of exceptionally high spirits. It was not as contagious as Elodie would have liked. Three nights ago she had felt quite comfortable with Christine and Alexander. Meeting the theatre owner had been a touch of destiny, she had thought. He seemed willing to accept her for all of her faults. She had felt as if she belonged despite all of her missing social graces.

Something in the previous nights had changed her. Her heart longed to return to the previous night for something felt entirely out of place. She felt as if she had not been as observant as she should have been. She had missed something so crucial that her entire being felt as if it were falling apart with each passing moment. Something was missing from her new life; something or someone who had played a key part in the months leading up to her miraculous recovery. She could not remember and it was driving her insane.

"Memory is quite useless if it is as faulty as this." She said out loud.

"Elodie?" Her mother said with curiosity.

"Oh nothing!" She exclaimed as she smiled. "Thinking out loud. I am sorry. I had not realized."

"Oh it is nothing, my darling." Her mother smiled, a ray of sunlight hitting her soft face at just the right angle to make her appear a warm and comforting angel. "Your father is quite excited about this appointment." She continued. "He believes it will be quite beneficial to you, it will help you grow into yourself."

"What appointment?" Elodie asked nervously.

"Oh Elodie, honestly!" Her mother said, slightly exasperated. She did not elaborate further.

"I have grown into myself in any case." She said defensively. Her mother shot her a disapproving glare. "Well, I have." She said quietly.

"Here we are." Her mother said suddenly as the carriage pulled to a stop. "Madame de Chagny, I was told, is a patron of the theatre." She said as she and Elodie stepped out onto the streets. Elodie felt her voice stick in her throat as she looked upon Tolouse Theatre in the daylight. "The owner was quite adamant that we meet before we tear you away to a place beyond his reach. He thinks you have quite a talent."

"Talent?" She asked. "What talent?"

"Robert." Her mother said with a broad smile as she went to her father. Her father smiled at her and she felt a surge of discomfort.

"Elodie, my darling daughter, come this way." He said as he beckoned with his arm. She walked slowly beside her parents. "Monsieur Broucher seems to be entirely charmed by you, Elodie. And who wouldn't be? You are a shining light in the darkest of places." He said proudly. Elodie felt her stomach churn.

_Darkness. The shining light. This is not right._ Her mind was screaming at her.

"Ah, Monsieur and Madame Papillion." Alexander strode over the married couple with a grin on his face. "Mademoiselle." Alexander said as he bent over Elodie's hand. Her heart fluttered. "I am very glad you could come." He said as he stared into her eyes. "This way please, to my office."

The group of four moved further into the theatre. Elodie felt a silence pressing her mouth closed. The strange feeling of uncertainty and discomfort seemed to be spreading through her entire body as if they were diseases. She tried desperately to push them back. She tried to tell herself she had no reason to feel this way. Alexander Broucher was a wonderful man and anything he was up to would only be good. She didn't believe herself. Intuition was gripping her tightly.

"Thank you, Monsieur Broucher." Her mother said as she sat in a chair. Elodie looked about her with confusion. She had been so caught up in her thoughts that she had hardly noticed that they had arrived in a study. The warm lights seemed to call out for trust. The mahogany of the desk gleamed softly and the subtle creme walls pressed in only slightly.

"So, Monsieur?" Her father asked, his mouth twitching slightly with amusement.

"Well, I suspect I should explain this from the beginning. Simply to make sure we are all on the same footing." He said. Elodie noticed that he had started to fidget. A look of unease crossed his face. She stared at him intently until her eyes caught his and then she graced him with the warmest smile she could muster. "I must confess that I met your daughter when she and Christine came to a performance here. I was more than likely too forward at the time. Christine, it appears, did not appreciate it. She would not assist me in sending word to you directly, Mademoiselle." He said as he smiled lightly at her. "I had to do a bit of digging to find where you were staying." He said with a forced chuckle. "In any case, I wanted to impress upon you the grace and charm your daughter has. I have only met her once but she had won me over in a heartbeat." He trailed off, staring down at his hands. "I believe she would quite an asset to this theatre."

"An asset?" Her mother asked with surprise.

"Now Sophie," Her father intercepted her question easily. "I have spoken to Monsieur Broucher-"

"Please, sir, Alexander."

"Yes." Her father said, only slightly flustered. "I have spoken to Alexander and he believes she would be a wonderful hostess before and after performances."

Her mother shot Alexander an inquisitive look. "Please, madame, do not be alarmed. The patrons of my theatre are quite used to a show. They are, forgive me for saying, creatures who have thrived too long on what is fake. Elodie is, to be honest, a breath of fresh air. She is natural and genuine. I know this might sound an absurd proposition but I have to make yet another confession; I am not at all good with people. I do not possess that air of composure, that ability to smile and light up a room."

"But Elodie can hardly-" Her mother began.

"Please, madame. I am aware she is not an incredibly social creature. Forgive me, please, mademoiselle." He said, looking at Elodie with worry. She nodded for him to continue. She was too afraid to speak a word for fear of the uneven tremble that would surely accompany any noise from her throat. "I feel this can help her. You must surely see the potential in your daughter, madame. Imagine what this opportunity can offer her. She could become the dazzling socialite I am sure you want her to be."

Her mother stared the young man down. Elodie felt pain for Alexander as she had experienced that stare one time too many herself. Elodie's father sat still, afraid to upset the gentle equilibrium of the room. Elodie could feel the tension creep up her neck. Alexander seemed to be growing paler with each silent second that passed.

"We will need to think about this." Her mother finally said. "You understand. One cannot make such rash decisions. Especially when it concerns a daughter that we nearly-" Elodie was fully aware that her mother had stopped herself from speaking of the unspeakable illness that had plagued their family through Elodie's mind and body. "You understand."

"Yes!" Alexander said as he nodded and stood suddenly. His movement nearly dislodged a stack of papers from a corner of his desk and he scrambled to catch them. Elodie felt a giggle rising but she shoved it down as deep as she could. She could feel her mother's conflicting emotions. She disapproved of Alexander's behavior but she had big dreams for Elodie. "I will be here when you are ready to discuss this further." Alexander managed with a weak-hearted smile. Her mother nodded and stood. Elodie stood and watched as her parents walked out of the door.

"Alexander," Elodie said slowly. "please do not get your hopes up too awfully high. They are extremely skilled at sending such hopes crashing below the ground." She moved quickly to the desk and leaned over, placing her hand ontop of his. A small smile twinkled at him and she turned to leave.

---

"Mother, you must not judge him solely on his behavior today!" Elodie cried as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her father watched cautiously from a corner of the carriage as mother and daughter argued.

"He said it himself. He is not good with people. He lacks social grace." Her mother said. "I do not know a thing about this man or his theatre. If it has the same sad reputation as he, than the answer will be no."

"He was the ward to the original owner. Monsieur Brochet left him everything. The theatre still upholds the same reputation it had 5 years ago when Brochet died. I think that is proof enough of his capabilities."

"Elodie, you cannot just jump headlong into things such as this. If we leave you here in Paris alone-what if-what if it comes back? What will you do? You will be here all alone again."

Elodie sighed. "Mother, it won't come back." She watched her mother carefully. "And if it does I will tell Alexander and he will notify you immediately. Beside that, there is Christine. I will not be as alone this time. You are forgetting ta crucial detail. I want to be in Paris this time. Before I had no say in the matter." She watched as her mother's gaze feel guiltily to the floor of the carriage. "You must let me spread my wings. How else will I ever learn to fly?" She pleaded.

Her mother's soft eyes looked up at Elodie. The tears were visible. Her mother was worried. "I will only allow it if you promise to tell us the minute anything starts again."

Elodie nodded readily. "I promise with all of my heart."

"Always were to passionate." Her mother said with sad chuckle. "Always with your heart."

_**Erik**_

"Erik," Christine's voice pierced the empty space of the opera cellars. "he has found a way for her to stay." Erik realized if he remained still enough he could hear her breathing. "Erik, if you stay hidden in your misery you will lose her. In the fight for Elodie, he is already winning."

"Let him win." He said with finality. "There is no fight to be had. I will not fight for love again. It will only end in her tears. So many have already been shed. Let him win."

"You give up without a fight?" Her voice was muffled by the brewing frustration. "You give up!" He found her anger delicious. "This is the one, Erik. The one who has made you change. She is the one you are meant to be with and you leave her to what? For what? You are a coward, Erik! You are too afraid of losing."

"I have already lost her!" He screamed as he stood in the dark and sent a small table beside him flying. He relished the sound of Christine's gasp. The metal of the objects on the table clattered to the ground a mere second before the table broke against stone somewhere in the dark space. "Don't you see! She was dead! She was dead before she ever met me! This woman is not the same woman I knew."

"How can you be so sure?" Christine's voice sounded faint and distant. "You have created that woman. Without you she would be-"

"You know nothing, Christine." He said with rage. "She was never mine! She could never be mine! When I found her she was a dying star. She was slipping into an eternity of nothing. The woman I saved was on the brink of death!" He was bellowing, his body trembling with such force he was sure he would collapse any second and cease to exist. "Death makes all things pretty and necessary. What she saw in me, what she got from me was at death's door. She was a different creature then. She was scrambling for a way back. All I did was insist she find it. That woman was lost to me!" He could feel burning tears scalding his scared face. In his rant he had torn of his mask. He was certain it lay in shards at his feet. He sobbed without a care in the world.

His knees gave way and he felt himself fall to the ground. His hands rested lamely in his lap as he cried. Christine's footsteps were covered by his tears. He was not even aware of the closing space between them until she had wrapped her arms around him. She gently rocked him as a mother would a child. "Oh Erik." She said sadly.

"I would have gone through hell for her." He sobbed softly. "I was so certain she was dead. I felt I knew the moment she had passed." He feared the complete loss of his control over the painful emotions that were beating at his brain. "She was never the same woman I discovered. She was never the Elodie I thought I knew."

"Erik." Christine said, a waver in her voice.

"Don't you see?" He said with desperation. "That moment I was sure she was dead, it was when the real woman returned. I do not even know Elodie. Christine, how could I ever have her when I do not know her?" His tears felt like salt in wounds. They scalded his skin and he wished they would stop. He wished they would completely destroy him.

Christine continued to rock him. His face, so crowded by his own tears, did not register her own. Christine cried for Erik, sharing in his pain, for his defeat. He cried for Elodie but Christine cried for his own self-handed destruction.


	25. Chapter 25: Anathema

**A/N: I am incredibly angry at the moment because I wrote the first half of this chapter and I loved it but when I went to finish the chapter it was completely gone. I had to reconstruct it. I tried my best but...grrr. I apologize for that. This chapter is longer than any other chapter, I believe. So hopefully it makes up for the shaky beginning. Thank you so much for reviewing. I really appreciate each and every review I get. **

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter Twenty-five: Anathema

_**Elodie**_

**Two months later**

Despite the sunshine and the breeze she could not shake the thought that something was missing. Despite the smiles and attention she gained on a regular basis she could not rid herself of the terrible feeling of the hole inside that was gnawing away at her peace of mind. She silently grew more terrified each day that the gap would widen so far that it would swallow her whole. The fear of something so internal devouring her felt too strong to bear.

She kept it hidden behind her hurried duties. She was busy quite often and she had grown into quite the actress in her short time as a makeshift hostess of Alexander's theatre. She did her socializing routine when needed and often slipped away into a dark hallway once a performance began. She did not have the time or patience to sit for so long. Her mind wandered too easily these days. She and Alexander often retreated to his study. They sipped tea and chatted until the bell chimed and Elodie rushed back down to say the formal goodbyes.

It might not have been so difficult to bear all of these strange new feelings if she had more company than Alexander. She appreciated his efforts but he was not a feminine and understanding person. What she really desired was a conversation with Christine. This, however, seemed as if it would never happen. Christine had been distant since the night that she had introduced her to Alexander. Elodie could not place any reason for this sudden disappearance of a woman she had thought was a friend.

Christine and Raoul frequented the theatre but their visits were rare. Christine often found an excuse to slip away from Elodie before the chance to talk ever surfaced. Elodie had almost managed to gain an invitation to their home once. Raoul was quickly put in his place. His wife told her that the baby was sick and that they were told not to permit anyone into the house just yet. As the two were leaving Elodie heard Christine say "Raoul, do not overstep your authority on this issue. I will say when it will happen." Elodie had been quite startled to hear a wife speak to her husband in such a way. Especially one as doting and caring as Raoul.

She feared she had done something to upset Christine. For the life of her she could not recall what she could have done. She had barely spoken to Christine since that night two months ago. In fact, she remembered that Alexander had said Christine had not been willing to help him in the search for her parents those months ago.

She often bored Alexander with all of her theories. He listened politely and watched her gently. She would often end up in a mess of emotions and confusion. He would always lean over and kiss her forehead gently. "The baby is sick and she is expecting another. Christine is being stretched very thin."

She tried her hardest to believe him but it seemed that the baby was always sick.

---

"Ellie, we are going to be late!" Alexander called from her doorway.

She smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she rearranged the diamond strands around her neck. "Oh Alexander, I have hardly been a minute longer than you." She said as she poked carefully at her hair.

"I have never seen you take this long in getting ready." He insisted.

She studied each tendril of escaped hair carefully. She wanted everything to be perfect. She and Alexander had finally been invited to the de Chagny home for a gala. After the night's performance she and Alexander would be going straight there and she was determined to look her best.

"Ellie!" Alexander pleaded.

"You may go on without me if you must." She said with a laugh.

"Nonsense."

She stood carefully and entered Alexander's view. He leaned easily in the door frame, watching her with awe. "Is it too much?" She asked as she looked down at her plum dress.

"Not at all." He said. "It fits you perfectly."

She approached him and placed a hand on his chest. "Oh Alexander, you flatterer." She grasped his arm and pulled him easily from the room.

_**Erik**_

He rolled over in bed and frowned as rays of sunlight filtered through the windows. The thin curtains did little to block the harsh light from hitting the minuscule interiors. It woke him every morning in the same manner and made him irritable. He was not accustomed to being woken against his will. Especially by something so immaterial as a ray of light.

He manuevered a hand under a pillow and flipped it over on top of his head and squeezed his eyes closed. His ears became faintly aware of footsteps approaching his room and a grimace crossed his face. He steeled himself for the inevitable.

The knock at the door was harsh. He sucked in air and pressed the pillow closer to his ears. The rapping continued. He tried to block out the sound but it did not cease. Instead it increased in volume and consistency. He groaned as he heard the door knob turning.

"Erik." Christine said impatiently. "You cannot sleep all day." She walked across the room and opened the curtains to allow more sun in. "You must come down to eat something."

"Are you sure Raoul would appreciate the taking of food from his family?" He said sarcastically as he remained in bed.

Christine shot him a dirty look. "I wish you would forgive him that first week." Erik grinned maliciously as he removed the pillow from his face. Indeed, he should forgive Raoul for his behavior the first week Christine had brought him into their home. It had, he understood, taken a lot of convincing from his wife for Raoul to agree to let Erik stay.

Christine seemed to like playing benefactress to Erik and this bothered him. He had been rather hopeless down in the cellar of the Opera Populaire. He could not deny this but being made to stay with the de Chagny's burned at his mind. He did not see his behavior as ungrateful. He had not asked to be taken in like a stray animal. Christine had pleaded and begged Raoul. She had told him of the past year of Erik's dreadful life and had batted her eyelashes. Her maternal instincts brought Erik to stay with had been of no use to Christine the first week. He had thwarted her every attempt to draw Erik into the household. He had retorts to every sentence Erik made and glares for every moment he passed him in the house.

"You know he understands the situation properly now." She said as she stared out of the window of the guest room. "You should come down. You cannot spend all day in this room."

Erik bit back the urge to tell her differently. He stood from the bed and stared her down. "If you insist, mother." He said with resentment. "If you would be so kind as to let me dress." He waved a hand toward the door. Christine nodded and disappeared, closing the door firmly behind her.

Once he had sat awkwardly with a plate of food before him Christine hurried him out to the garden. He felt growing frustration as he obeyed without questioning her authority.

The garden was much different in the day. It lacked the impressiveness it gained with twilight and the darkness that followed. The first time he had seen the garden it had been a different place. Now he was sick of the entire area. It seemed too orderly and maintained. It seemed to stifle with its necessity to remain a garden in a city.

He was on the verge of making his way back to the room when Christine and Raoul entered in front of him. He frowned as they approached. Raoul had a hand pressed gently into Christine's back. She looked on Erik with uncertainty.

"Erik," She began quietly. "there is something I must tell you. It is about the party tonight." Erik realized how tired Christine looked. Her face seemed drawn out and there were dark circles under her eyes. A hand rested precariously on her growing belly. "I had wanted to tell you but I did not know how." She looked down at her stomach. "Elodie and Alexander will be coming."

Erik felt his heartbeat quicken. He felt a sweat break out along his back. He felt the urge to tremble with apprehension. He reigned it in and remained as still as he possibly could.

"I tried to avoid her but she insisted she come. I do not expect you to come but if you do there will be a substantial amount of other guests. You might not even encounter her."

"I will not go. I have better things to do than attend your gala."

"You will not be leaving your room if you do not attend." Raoul said swiftly. Erik's eyes flared with indignation. He felt a growl growing in his throat.

"You dare to tell me what to do?" He asked angrily. "I will do what I want when I want."

"Erik-" Christine began.

"I am not a child or an invalid and I do not believe you can order me around as such. You two do not own me." His voice was rising.

"We are not the ones who went insane in the bottom of an abandoned opera house." Raoul yelled. Christine jumped visibly. "We did not have a complete mental breakdown."

Erik felt his blood surging with violence. "I will do what I want." He strode past them into the house.

_**Elodie**_

The chatter inside of the de Chagny home was contagious. The smells of the cooked dishes mingled with the smells of perfume. Elodie felt the smile plastered on her face and felt constricted. Alexander hovered by her side dutifully, making small talk with passing people as they wandered about the party. Elodie payed no attention. She felt her mission growing more improbable with each passing moment.

The building seemed full of people. People she did not know. Everywhere she looked she could find no trace of Christine or Raoul. She grasped Alexander's hand and yanked harshly. "Ellie?" He asked with concern.

"I do not see her." She said quietly.

"Ellie, perhaps you should wait. There is no need to hurry. She will be here. It is her home. There will be time to talk with her. Enjoy the party." He smiled at her. She faked her own smile and nodded.

"You are right, Alexander. Will you excuse me?" She asked as she disentangled herself from him. He nodded his consent and she slipped away.

Elodie wandered about alone for some time. She occasionally struck up conversation with someone she vaguely recognized from the theatre. She pretended to be interested in what they said but she felt restless and distracted. She was listening to Madame Helena Trutoue when she spotted Christine weaving her way through the crowd. She was smiling and laughing. From the distance between them Elodie could almost believe her act.

She excused herself quickly and hurried after her. It was not until they neared the rear of the house that Elodie saw Christine's tired face emerge. She heard an audible sigh and watched as Christine slipped into the garden. Elodie felt her breathing become irregular. She was sure there were other party-goers who had straggled out into the garden. She did not want anyone to overhear her conversation with Christine.

She looked back at the throng of mingling people and studied the way they leaned in toward each other. She watched as the woman laughed loudly and the men smiled. Her chance was escaping and she turned on her heel and scurried out into the garden before she could be stopped again.

---

There were few people outside and Elodie watched them carefully as she looked around the small area for Christine. She found her sitting on a bench far removed from the house. She approached cautiously. "Christine?" She called as she neared. The woman looked up and threw on a fake smile.

"Elodie." She said.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked as watched the curve of Christine's back revert back to a tired slouch. Her face lost the smile quickly and she shook her head with effort.

"Just a touch of exhaustion." She said cheerily. It did not match her appearance. "The planning for this gala was a bit more demanding than I had thought. The baby has been crying non-stop and-but it is fine." She said she she brushed at her dress.

Elodie sat next to her carefully. "Christine, you seem more than a bit exhausted."

Christine shook her head. "How have you been?" She struggled to ask. Elodie realized how uninterested Christine was.

"Oh quite well." She said with mock cheer. "I do wish you would call on me more." She said.

"Elodie." Christine said with warning in her voice.

"I do not understand what I have done to upset you." She said suddenly, realizing she could not stop herself. "Since you introduced me to Alexander you have been distant if not completely absent. I do not understand what I have done. I did not think I offended you but I must have."

Christine remained silent, a dark look crossing her face.

"I have tried to recall everything I have ever said to you and I just cannot put a finger on what happened. You will not talk with me. You avoid me at all costs. I just want to know what I've done. Is that so wrong?" She pleaded.

Christine's eyes seemed clear and alert. She sat straight and looked at Elodie. "Perhaps you have done nothing wrong but you have made my life more difficult." She said evenly. "You are too naive and willing to forget everything that was your past. You are too willing to jump into something that should not have happened in the first place. Perhaps you have done nothing wrong but it is a bitter taste that your presence brings to my tongue."

Elodie's brows furrowed. "I have done nothing yet you dislike me suddenly? I hardly think that is fair."

"Life is unfair Elodie. You had best learn that. There are people in this world who live their whole lives as proof of this. There are people who have done a tiny semblance of good in the world and they get nothing in return. There are people who love and care for another with their entire being and they are robbed of the chance for that love to be returned. Life is unfair." Christine's voice was becoming clouded with frustration. "There are men who believe they should not grace the surface of this earth with their feet or show the world their face because they are rejected again and again. There are things that go unnoticed by the people who should notice them the most. There are reasons why I am tired and there are reasons why you sit in a theatre all day playing a manager's wife when that is not what should have happened. Life will always be unfair. Live with it!"

"Christine, what are you-"

"The answer you are looking for will not be answered here. You are blind, Elodie. Until you learn to see I am afraid there will be no friendship between us." Christine stood abruptly and elegantly. She did not cast a backward glance as she strode into the house.

---

The banister of the stairway leading up was polished. It seemed so warm in the glow of the lights. Elodie could not resist the urge to place a hand delicately on it. She fully expected it to consume her fingers in heat and pleasant feelings. It was cool and unrelenting. She frowned slightly and craned her neck to look up the stairs.

The darkness seemed to call out to her. She stared into the shadows and tried to listen intently for any sound. All that met her ears were the sounds of laughter from further inside the house. She shook her head viciously and looked back into the darkness.

She stepped up and looked back toward the crowded room. Not a single head was looking in her direction. She took it as a worthwhile cue and ascended the stairs slowly. She tried to recapture Christine's ability to walk with her head held high even in the midst of an argument. She focused on keep her hand firmly on the banister until she reached the second floor.

The shadows seemed less thick once she had found her way into them. She looked down the hall and spotted a light glowing beneath a doorway. She could hear cooing. She turned in the opposite direction and slowly made her way away from the nursery.

Silence met her ears and she became more aware of the growing darkness. The only thing that drew her on was a small amount of light at the far end of the hall. Another room was being used.

Everything in Elodie's being told her to turn around. She was intruding. She knew there would be no reason she could offer once she entered that room. She was certainly not supposed to be on the second floor. She could not find the power to turn back. It felt as if she were supposed to seek out what the light meant.

Christine's words smacked into her as she moved closer. She did not want to be blind. She would prove Christine wrong. She would see the light. She would be graced with something new. The light was important.

Her fingers grasped the doorknob. Her heart was beating rapidly and her fingers shook lightly. She was not scared. She was certain that there was nothing to be scared of. She was supposed to open this door. There was nothing to fear in how certain she felt. She turned the doorknob.

_**Erik**_

The paper under his fingers felt a contradictory texture of soft and scratchy. He found it appealing. The scratching of the pen happened to be even more appealing to his ears than anything else had been for months. He did not understand what he was writing but he felt the necessity of the action. The room felt empty and hollow. The paper felt filled and alive. With what he could not be certain.

The noise from downstairs had distracted him earlier but now he wrote without concentrating. It seemed to flow from him freely and without restriction. Every now and then he would stop and sketch a brief shape or figure on a separate piece of paper. Scratching out nonsense on the paper before him felt calming. It soothed him.

His mood of earlier seemed to disappear with each passing second.

A sound of movement did not startle him. He did not pay attention to the doorknob turning. He assumed it would be Christine checking in as she felt it was her duty. He continued to sketch out words. This work was consuming. It felt as if it were swallowing him whole and he could accept that.

The door was opening and there was no voice. It did not bother him.

A sudden gasp jerked him out of his thoughts. He frowned with slight confusion and turned without thinking. She was standing there. Just before his eyes and his bare face. She stood there a look of absolute shock. He felt everything grind to halt. His mind stopped.

_**Elodie**_

The man's back was to her. She felt mounting concern. This was man was not Raoul. It was not someone she could recall. Yet his back looked familiar. The tilt of his head seemed familiar. She could not stop a gasp from escaping from her lips. She felt a tremble begin in her legs as he turned around.

His face, in the light, shook her to her soul. It was riddle of scarred flesh and abnormal dips and rises. It was a haunting face. She felt a small flicker of revulsion creep through her mind. The man's eyes widened in shock. A series of emotions crossed his ruined face. Her heart suddenly felt too heavy.

He stood slowly, his lips working for words he could not seem to push onto the air. She stumbled back. The air suddenly seemed to familiar. The emotions felt too close to something she could not recall. This man's face screamed distant memories she was sure she did not have. This recognition, she felt, was false. It terrified her.

_**Erik**_

He watched helplessly as Elodie backed away from him. He could see her gripping the door. She looked stunned and ready to flee at the smallest noise. He could not let her escape. Not when she had found her way back to him. "Elodie." He finally said softly.

"How do you know my name?" She asked in a shrill voice.

"Elodie, you-"

"How," She interrupted loudly. "do you know my name?" He watched as she took another step back. One foot was in the hall.

"I know you." He tried carefully. "You know me."

"I do not know you!" She said as she shook her head.

"But you do, Elodie. Somewhere in your memory you must remember me."

"I do not know you!" She repeated but she did not move. She looked down at her feet.

He sensed his chance and he lunged forward and pulled her back into the room. He slammed the door shut behind him. He turned to look at her again and her face was pale and terrified.

"Let go of me, you monster!" She shrieked as she yanked her arm from his grip. The words slapped him with force across the face.

_Face. The mask is gone. The bare face. _

"Elodie, I know this is a shock but-do you not remember? Can you not remember?" She shook under his gentle gaze. "Please. You must remember."

"I cannot remember what I never knew." She said in a shaky voice. Her eyes did not leave his face.

"The asylum. You escaped, didn't you? I found you. I took you in. We went to Paris. That is when you met Christine. We-you-we were together for a long time, Elodie."

"No!" She shouted. Erik held out a hand, palm down, in an attempt to quiet her. She shook her head, her large eyes watering. Erik felt his heart breaking further. He wanted to comfort her but knew he could not under these circumstances.

"How else would you have met Christine? How else would you have survived those months before you were returned to your parents?"

"But that was just a dream." She said. He watched her face fall.

_**Elodie**_

"It was a dream." She repeated with determination as she squeezed her eyes closed. Nothing made sense. Her parents had told her it had been a dream. It must be a dream.

She remember seeing this same man on a street in Paris with her father months earlier. She remember his name leaving her mouth. _Erik. _Her eyes flew open and she found the man staring at her. His face was full of sadness and pleading.

_They were all dreams. Everything you thought you remembered. __**They **__told you they were all dreams. The man, the ocean, the forest. He helped you eat, Elodie. That was not a dream. He took you to Paris, Elodie. That was not a dream. Do you not remember that he did not want to go? He went for you, Elodie. You knew of Christine before you left. You met her accidentally. The worse illness intervened and allowed you two to meet. Elodie, she knew Erik too. Remember? Remember how you took off his mask? Remember how he cried? You loved him, Elodie. You told him so. They were not dreams. _

Elodie felt her entire body shaking with fear now. It was too difficult to swallow and her throat felt far too dry. Her eyes felt filled with tears when she looked upon him again. Erik's face was familiar. His voice was familiar. She felt growing anxiety claw at her. It ripped shreds out of her makeshift confidence and determination. She now stood the person she was before she had come to Paris with her parents and sister. She felt sickened that she did not remember him. She felt revulsion at the trust she had placed in her family. The sorrow she felt at understanding Christine's words was heavy. Nothing was heavier than the knowledge of how she had abandoned Erik without a thought in the world. How easily she had forgotten.

Erik's mouth breathed out her name once more and she felt tears slide down her cheeks. She shook her head. "No." She managed. She jumped when she felt his hand on her arm. "No!" She screamed as she fell away from him. "Do not touch me." She said as she stared longingly at the door.

"Elodie please." He said again. Her heart felt as if it were about to shatter. She felt a grim feeling pressing in on her. The feeling of the other voice inside of her fought, breaking its way out. She had lost everything. His absence was the cause for the hole in her being. His absence was what she feared would swallow her whole. The release of the memories and emotions felt far too extreme. She could not bare to handle sifting through these found truths in front of him.

She pushed past him and flung the door open.

"Elodie!"

"No!" She shouted as she looked back. "Leave me alone." She said. "Leave me be, you monster." She sobbed before she ran from the room.

_**Erik**_

He closed the door carefully and sat on the edge of the bed.

_"Leave me be, you monster."_ Her tears felt like acid despite the fact that they had not touched him.

Monster. He remained still, afraid of moving. He felt as if he would crumble under the slightest movement.

_**Monstrum in fronte, monstrum in animo.**_

The words smacked into him with ferociousness. Words he had given to himself so long ago yet still felt new. They still burned. _**Monster in face, monster in soul.**_

Elodie would have nothing to do with him. He was far too grotesque. He was the worst kind of human being. One that was on the edge of humanity. His soul peered through his ripped flesh and startled the most innocent and sweet of creatures.

The time had come for him to remember his place in the world. He could not serve it at Christine's feet as an obedient pet nor could he spend it wallowing in love or the idea thereof.

Monsters only need live up to their reputation.


	26. Chapter 26: Minute's Hand

**A/N: Another chapter so soon! It's not as long as the other one and I am excited to get this going. I had some spare time tonight because I studied and wrote papers over the weekend so I worked on this chapter. Expect more soon!**

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Chapter Twenty-Six: Minute's Hand

_**Elodie**_

Restlessness and aches kept her awake. She sat in the center of her bed with her legs crossed. Her face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Her hair was hastily braided and thrown over her shoulder. Her large eyes stared endlessly on the edge of the blanket which remained undisturbed. She had not bothered to crawl under them. She knew the minute she had returned home that she would not be able to sleep.

Her thoughts drifted like wood down a river and she watched them pass. She felt as if dark clouds were hovering over her. She would never escape from them. She often leaned forward and gripped her ankles. She tried to press her forehead to the bed. She let the moonlight drift into her room and she contemplated how curious everything was when one didn't care to think about anything in particular.

Time seemed to stand still and she did not let it bother her. She knew that farther down the house Alexander could be sitting up in his own bed. She doubted it. He did not seem to notice the shift in reality that tore Elodie completely apart. She decided it was just as well. She did not want him involved.

What was she to do? Alexander housed her and paid her salary. Alexander was her ony friend in Paris. He cared for her and not so secretly loved her. Erik had been an unwelcome discovery. It hurt to think about him. It hurt to think about how she might never be able to recapture what they had had. Now that she was certain of his existence she felt uncertain and lost. She did not know what to do with Alexander and Erik.

She wanted to leave Alexander's house. She felt somehow wrong in staying under his roof but she had no where else to go. She had no other way to survive. She was too terrified to go to Erik and much to embarrassed to go to Christine. She felt alone in Paris again and she felt the gnawing hunger that bit at her stomach. She had not eaten since lunch that day.

Elodie threw back her head and looked at the ceiling. It was blank and refused to give her any answers.

_**Erik**_

Night felt splendid and cruel as he walked through the deserted streets. No purpose was needed for his wanderings. Christine and Raoul did not know that he had left. They did not know that he would not be returning.

Paris felt like a cold place. It felt like a vicious place. It felt like the right place for him to be. Only here could he be the monster he was meant to be. Hiding in the country-side would do no good. It would only make him crazy. Here he could torment and destroy lives. His destiny could be fulfilled.

His first was planned in his mind. Alexander Broucher would be his obvious target. It would be easy and quick. He would suffer but not as much as he deserved. As for Elodie, he would be giving her a reason. She would not need to feel guilty for having turned her back on him. She could realize that he was the monster she named. Her life would be ruined but she would be right.

Christine, he feared, would be vastly upset and this was his only regret. She did not deserve the pain he would bring. He hoped he could avoid bringing such devestation directly to her. He was ready to withstand sadness if it should land right before her. She would feel betrayed. It would be a sacrifice he had to make.

Reputations had to be earned. His would be upheld. All of Paris would tremble under his vengence and monstrosity.

---

Timid nights were often his favorite for it always seemed as if they were waiting to be robbed of life. They were open and unrestrained and offered up all that he deemed necessary to make a quick and clean break from the past humanity that had he had endured for the past year.

He walked casually around the abandoned Opera Populaire and became an extravagant recluse that sought out the ultimate destruction. He stared into dust dressing rooms and watched the past float toward him eagerly. More than once he found himself standing before the bed that Christine had slept in for so many nights. In her former dressing room he discovered how alluring the past was. The dangerous mistress it was, it begged and pleaded with him to follow his actions and trace his way back to a different time. There was no hope in denying. His actions were cemented in his fate. There would be no turning back even if he had wanted to.

His fingers traced the walls as he wandered and his mind began to formulate the intense actions that must be taken. His brain fought maliciously to conceive of new tricks with which to make the city quake with fear. It was not worrisome rather it was full of anticipation and mounting excitement. He did not fear the inability on his part to achieve such a thing for he did not find such a fault in himself.

Well after midnight, Erik declared to the grayed surface of a managerial desk that it had been sorted out. He placed a palm into the dust and watched the traces of his fingers as they claimed their spot in the abandoned past. A grim look of determination crossed his face. His hand balled into a fist and he stared longingly at the dirty wallpaper.

_**Elodie**_

The night felt too young and unwillingly to let her be. It was under this circumstance that she found herself drifting about the house as if she were a ghost of some sort. The moonlight often hit her and her entire pale face was set afire with such eerie elegance that one could have been startled to death at the mere sight of her.

The stillness of the house disturbed her. She felt that the turmoil ripe in her heart should certainly be leaking out. It should be tainting the house and the streets she walked and the people she spoke with. The manifestation of her angst was lacking in impressiveness. Instead, it seemed it only bothered her.

She was busy crusading the library when a flicker of a candle broke out upon the room. She spun around, her large eyes made larger by fear and the flame. Alexander, eyes hazy with sleep, stood in the doorway with a look of utter confusion. He brought a hand to his face and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Elodie, what are you doing down here?" He asked as he blinked at her.

"It was-well-there was-I couldn't sleep." She relented as she stared back at him. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." He declared with a small yawn. "I woke up without any help. It was rather strange. I felt as if something were amiss. You weren't in your room and I was worried." He moved into the room and set the candle on a desk. "Is there anything I can do to help?" He asked earnestly.

She shook her head and stared at her feet for words. "Alexander," She began quietly. "what if I am not the person you think I am?"

"Elodie," he said with a small laugh. "I do not think that is possible."

"I mean to say, what if my past is quite dark? What if there are things that are secretive and the truths deprived even from me? What if I have been lied to and nothing that has happened the past half a year has actually had any meaning?"

"What is this about?" He asked with concern.

"It's just," She broke off and shook her head. "There is something that just does not feel right." She said finally. "Things don't seem to add up, time doesn't seem to flow right when I look back and words that I was told seem faulty under this...kind of perception." She looked at the frown on his face. "Never mind." She declared as she threw her hands into the air.

"Elodie," Alexander said sternly. "I will listen to anything you have to say. I-" He stopped abruptly and stared down at his hands awkwardly. Elodie felt her breath catch in her throat as she looked on as Alexander tried to dismiss his unfinished statement. "I will always listen to you Elodie. No matter how absurd you believe you sound."

"Alexander." She breathed softly. "I feel as if I have done something quite awful." She said as she restrained the prickling at her eyes that signaled coming tears. "It was so terrifying." She said with passion as she thought back to Erik's face and his look of defeat as she fled from the room. "It just all seemed to make such sense at that moment and it didn't seem possible and I behaved irrationally and I am afraid I have hurt someone terribly."

"Who?" He asked. She shook her head.

"You would not know-" She shook her head again to try to signal him she would not say. She tried to block all the sudden thoughts of Erik that were forcing their way into her unarmed mind. She hugged herself as she stared at Alexander absently.

"Elodie, you seem so troubled as of late. Before the gala you were growing distant and now you seem so distressed. I am worried." He moved closer to her, close enough to grasp her hands and hold them close to his chest. "I feel as if you are in pain and I can do nothing to save you."

"Mine is not a situation that requires a hero." She said. Even as she mumbled the words she knew what she really meant but could never say to him. _You are not the hero I need, Alexander._

He nodded his head sadly. "It just pains me as well. Elodie, I do not know what I would do without you. You are such a splendid and unreachable creature. You seem to rise above all of us without even trying. Your irregular behavior only endears me to you more. You have this sway over people when you are truly shining. You are capable of embodying everything everyone desires and fears in themselves. I hate to see that reduced by whatever pain you are suffering from." She moved away to speak to him but he grasped her tighter. "Elodie, I must confess something and you must promise to not ridicule me or to leave." She grasped for some level of control. She knew the words that would be spilling out of his mouth like a glass overturned. She waited for the stain to cover the air. "I have loved you from the moment I first met you. My love is more passionate with each passing moment. I can feel it growing."

"Alexander-"

"No, please. I do not want you to say anything. Just...please. I love you so much it aches. I never knew such a thing could exist but this, it causes me such agony when I see you in pain. This is beyond any love I have ever felt or heard of. Please, Elodie. Just take this for what it is." His eyes were filled with fire and his mouth twitched slightly. "I wil do anything for you. I love you."

She studied his face in the light of the candle and felt something uncomfortable stir in her heart. She feared it was an illness. She feared it was pity. It was certainly not what she had ever felt for Erik those many months ago. Nonetheless, she leaned in and kissed Alexander's quivering lips. "I know, Alexander. I know."


	27. Chapter 27: Desperate Hell

**A/N: I am so sorry this took so long. I don't know what got in to me. I will try to work on the next chapter this week. I'm also sorry this is so short. The next chapter will be better and longer!**

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Chapter Twenty-seven: Desperate Hell

_**Elodie**_

She grew sick of the life before her. At night, she realized, she felt a deep and inner conflict that made her restless. In daylight she went along with the script presented to her. She followed the rules of those around her and did not question or attempt to improvise her own situation.

Alexander seemed to grow more attached to her with each passing moment. Their encounter the night a week ago had only led to a more permanent devotion placed in broad view for all to see. She worried it would cause a scandal.

Her sickly apprehension grew on her daily as she longed desperately for a past she was sure had all but disappeared. She had taken to writing somewhat abstract prose on scraps of blank paper that she sneaked from Alexander's study. She felt if it remained inside she would decay rapidly.

Her thoughts were never far from Erik and her own stupidity. She recalled each minuscule detail of his face and each absent-minded uttering of words he had ever spoken to her. She retraced the moments their flesh had touched, if only briefly. When Alexander kissed her passionately at night she did not see him but rather the man she had thrown away from her in anxiety and fear.

She was no fool and knew how she led Alexander on. She could not give him what he seeked but she had no heart to deny him what little she could give him.

Christine had remained absent from Elodie's daylight views. The truth of her connection to Erik was no solid and undeniable. Her drift away from Elodie had been a mere consequence of her support for him. Their past was murky and without her and she wondered just how deeply their affections for one another went. She wondered if it was Christine who comforted Erik late at night now.

Her heart beat painfully in her chest. Her mouth felt a constant dryness that she could not vanquish. Her stomach shriveled with hunger. She could not allow food to pass her tightly sealed lips. When she did she became sick and incapacitated for days on end. Her thinning body seemed to punish her each day that she staggered from a bed that offered little comfort.

She felt that there could be no hope for a woman as lonely and foolish as she.

_**Erik**_

He watched patiently as the twilight befell the street before him. He watched with mocking interest as the denizens of the theater drifted out for the day. He waited patiently for signs of her form leaving. He did not see her. Instead he saw Alexander exit. The man stood hesitantly, glancing back at his theater. He shook his head and quickly strode away.

Erik paused long enough to realize that Elodie remained deep within the walls. She was not to be the direct target of his games. He brushed aside a horrid longing to enter and seek her out. He shoved away the deep wish to hold her to him. He followed Alexander quietly and swiftly.

The man was blind and naive. He did not suspect a corrupt soul trailed him with great ease throughout the streets of familiarity. Alexander stopped only once he had reached the entrance to his house. There he turned expectantly and looked into the gathering darkness. Erik had hid himself effectively in the shadows and remained nothing but a piece of scenery.

Erik was hit with the sudden idea that Alexander was a completely and utter dunce. He declared inwardly that it would be only to easy to see him off running like a coward. He restrained himself from the urge of moving his face upward toward the light. A dunce he might be but it would take much more to avoid such obvious movement when he was obviously already suspicious.

Erik's dark eyes followed him closely as he reached for the door and pushed it open. It shut slowly. The emptiness of the space around him begged him to hold still but a little longer. His eyes narrowed and he breathed evenly.

A light flickered on in an upper window of the house. Erik's dark grin spread quickly. He simply could not help himself. His eager feet made to intrude upon the house. He stood just on the edge of total illumination from the light shining down from a street lamp when he heard the approaching carriage wheels. His fingers clenched and he stood, unmoving and unwilling to be moved.

The wheels stopped not far from him. Agitation swarmed his brain. He heard the door opening. His ears prickled. He heard the driver call goodnight. His fingers pinched the flesh of his arm. He heard her respond. His body went cold. He stood without reaction as if he believed he could pass as stone.

She was nearly to the house when she turned. Her doe eyes caught him. Her face held no anger or fear, only sickly surprise. His eyes felt as if they were on fire but he did not dare blink. She took a hesitant step toward him.

His body sputtered into life again. His legs, making up for the moments wasted in such a still position, went into overdrive. Before he could comprehend another solution, he had turned swiftly on his heel and strode away. His pace was just short of a run.

_**Elodie **_

Her throat choked out a horrid, animalistic noise when he disappeared into the night. So horrid was it that she startled herself. Her limbs remained planted as she looked into the night. He had made no sound, no movement toward her. Only away. Now there could be no trace of his being there. Her eyes pleaded with the darkness to produce him. She wished such an intangible thing as night could restrain Erik and force him back to her.

She longed to place her fingers upon him.

She dared not to blink for fear of losing all memory. It seemed logical to believe that all that would be necessary to save the moment was her stoic, stone form. Even the whispering of wind around her uncovered neck did not stir her.

She could not bare knowing that he lurked just out of reach. Had she been anything but a fool he might be standing before her, within arm's reach. She could have captured him up and never let him go. She could have started to mend the wounds she had caused. Her lack of common sense and abundant emotion deprived her of all she really wanted.

She had spent too long feeling as if she had lost something she could not remember. When he finally presented himself again she had been to late to realize how unequal the balance between them was. She had flown up and over him in confusion and fear and he had plummeted below her into a private hell that she could never enter again.

"Ellie?" Alexander's voice shook her. She could feel her flesh begin to crawl. Her eyes were determined to remain away from him. "Ellie? What is it?" His voice sounded full of worry. She bite back an angry scream. His hands found her arm and he tugged on her gently. "Ellie?"

He forced her around. His eyes looked at her with frustration. His mouth was drawn into a thin line. Her own face remained unresponsive. She did not respond, she did not move a muscle.

"Ellie, damn it!" He shouted. Finally her nerves gave way to a flinch and she drew away from him. "What is wrong? Why are you acting like this?" His voice rang out into the night. His face was turning red. "Ellie, why am I not good enough for you? Why can you not turn to me?" The gentle man she had come to know seemed so distant and she felt a quiver of fear as she cowered from his rage. "I can never do enough for you. There is always more to be done. You are an awful creature, Ellie."

She swallowed and stared at him. "I promised you nothing, Alexander." She said with force. "I ask for nothing."

"Yet you take all too willingly!"

"You claim to love me, Alexander, but that love, it would appear is only convenient when I am willingly to let you lavish it so affectionately. I am not a common whore, Alexander. I have breeding. I have morals. You are my friend. I have never promised you anything but that." Even as she spoke the words she knew that she lied. She brushed past his shaking form into the warmth of the house.

He entered behind her and slammed the door.

"Do try to behave like an adult, Alexander." She said arrogantly as she started up the stairs.

"You are an awful bitch." He exclaimed before stalking deep within the house.

---

The moonlight crept across her quilts. Her eyes, wide open, enquired an answer from the blank ceiling. She had spent too long tossing and turning without any sign of sleep. Her mind felt empty yet so full of turmoil she could not grasp a single thought.

When the door creaked open she was hardly surprised. She steeled herself for another, more physical, fight with Alexander. Instead, he merely climbed into the bed beside her and nestled close to the crook of her neck and shoulder. "Ellie, I am sorry." He whispered, tears on his uneven voice. His breath was clean of the sickly fragrance of liquor and she felt her body relax a bit. "This is harder than I expected."

"Alexander, I would love you more if I could." She said softly. "I would give you everything if I could. It's just-"

"Your everything does not belong to me." He said as he sighed. "I understand, Ellie." His warm breath soothed her fatigued senses. "I must try harder, Ellie. Forgive for one slip."

"I forgive you." She said.

"Would you mind if I slept in your room tonight?" He asked innocently.

"No." She whispered, her eyelids growing heavy.

"What is it like inside of your mind, Ellie?" He asked as he nudged her shoulder carefully with his chin.

"A perfect torrent of uncertainty and unknowable things." She said with a small yawn. Alexander was silent, save for the sound of his breathing.

"Is that what makes you so magnificent?" He asked finally.

She did not respond. Her eyes had closed and her breathing had evened out. She slept peacefully. Alexander studied her sleeping face. His fingertips traced the outline of her mouth. "You poor wonderful creature." He said as he kissed her cheek. "You even frown in your sleep."


	28. Chapter 28: A Dreadful Wonderland

**A/N: I am such a dreadful person to keep you all in suspense for such a prolonged period of time. I'm sorry. I'm not sure how much longer this story will go but I feel that Erik and Elodie have yet to learn what they need to so I suspect it will go on for at least a bit longer. I want to thank you all so much for reviewing. It means more than I can say that you all enjoy this story so much to review. I doubt I would have continued on so long as I have without each of you!**

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Chapter Twenty-eight: A Dreadful Wonderland

_**Elodie**_

_She stood on the edge of a beautiful destruction. The depths beckoned her in with seductive tentacles. She whimpered as she slipped in and willingly let it wash over her. There was no time, no light, no feeling, no substance. An endless empty expanse that promised an eternity. She scraped the sides of her flesh with a cruel and unfeeling nothingness. _

_She looked around her only to find she had no body with which to look. She remained nothing but a thinking mass. Her shape was unknown. The massiveness of her thoughts made her quiver with fear. She was too massive for such a plane. She was too massive for any sort of peaceful existence inside of this whirlwind of nothing. _

She woke with a painful start. Her back remained rigid with fright as she surveyed the sleeping man beside her. Alexander's mouth was opened slightly. His breathing was unhindered. She stared upon his figure and his content face. No frown crossed his gentle face.

She felt her lips turning down at the corners and her brows furrowing. She felt a rush of rage.

Her hands clenched into fists and she tried desperately to bring back her senses. The hot fury building within her scared her more than any dream. She jumped from the bed and rushed out of the room. Her bare feet grew cold as they met wooden surfaces.

She raced onward, unsure of her destination. The hallway seemed a blur, her mind a jumping, cartwheeling piece of machinery about to malfunction.

She did not stop until she reached his office. It seemed a short distance from her room for so long a journey. She pushed open the door and scurried in. Her legs crouched as she knelt under his desk. She sat swiftly and quietly, drawing her legs up to her chest. Her breathing was uneven and harsh.

Her mouth was forming words she did not mean to speak.

"He who slumbers so peacefully, without a care in the world. How can he know? How dare he think he can enter my dimension. He should stay away. He should not come closer. How dare he sleep in my bed. Of all the beds, mine is tainted by uncertainty and eagerness to please. He does not know of my predicaments. He does not know of the hunger. The hunger for everything. It is so consuming he must never know. No one must ever know.

"Mother would have killed me. Mother would have killed me if she knew what a vicious little heathen I was to be." Elodie rambled on, her body began rocking. "So hungry for everything. So full of desire of everything. It is most unladylike. It is most despicable. And father is blind to all but the goodness. Had he known better they might have done away with me long ago. Left me to die in the hell hole of that insane asylum.

"Erik." She breathed rapidly, her eyes unblinking as her fingers stumbled over her knobby knees. Her rocking was painful. Her tailbone ached. "Would you love me if you knew how wicked a creature I am? I am too full of life. I am too full of desire for everything in life. I am an incurable glutton. I am a sick child. Put out of my misery, that would have been best. He could not love me if it pleased him to. He could never know what lingers withing me. I am to be repressed and locked away. Let her take control, it is easier that way. Yes. She controls what I take in. She controls me. It is better this way. We both know it. This is what would happen in the end."

She nodded her head and fell silent. Her legs shaking in the cold. A tear slipped from her eyes. It fell to the white lace of her nightgown. It was followed by many more silent tears.

_**Erik**_

_He felt himself falling off of the cliff he had clung to with such steadfast determination. He was toppling over, head over heels. All the color was draining from the world. It remained gray and untouchable. His fingers weakly clawed for some hold, finding nothing. His descent became a rapid movement. The crushing waters below him rushed up to meet him. He felt the impact with every inch of his being. The air in his lungs seemed to evaporate. His vision seemed to go black. _

_He felt softness underneath him. His head was not as heavy as he would have thought. He pulled himself into a sitting position and blinked his eyes. The world around him was filled with a deep, lush blooming softness. Light seemed to settle on everything. Was this death? _

_He could breath. He could not breath. He saw her lying away from him, her frail body sheathed in a dim glow. She did not move. She did not react. She merely remained. His legs trembled as he stood up and moved toward her. Her eyes were blank and black. Her mouth was crooked open as if she were going to speak but no sound came out. His hands trembled as he reached down for her._

_"Do not touch her." Christine's voice said loudly. She stood before them. "You cannot touch her." He studied Elodie, stiff as a board yet as relaxed as a sleeping child. "You cannot have it both ways." She continued. "You cannot destroy everything in her world and have her too. You cannot have her at all."_

_"Why?" He demanded, fear in his voice._

_"She is not there, Erik. She is not there."_

_He looked to Christine. She stood in a warm glow, her body drenched in heavy black cloth. A hood was drawn over her head. Her face remained in shadow. He shook his head and looked back down. _

_It hit him with force. Elodie was not there. Only ground, freshly dug. A large headstone lay before him. His lungs seemed to collapse. His sight went black and his mouth opened. A scream erupted, so shrill and high it would sound as if a thousand harpies had been let upon the darkening skies._

_He was crushed under the weight of reality. His body was swiftly turning into dust. His attempts to hold on to anything let his body more disintegrated. Nothingness had come to claim him._

He woke with a start, sweat pouring down his forehead. He brushed away damp hair as he sat in his bed.

The world around him felt different. It felt fueled with a deep finality. For the first time in as many years, Erik was shaken by a fear so deep he felt as if he were the only being left to suffer on the cruel earth.

_**Elodie**_

Alexander watched her cautiously as he sipped from a cup. She remained in her stiff posture, her back not touching the chair. Her hands in her laps. She stared down at the plate before her. A grim look was plastered upon her face. Under the table, her fingers curled viciously around her thighs. The soft fabrics of her dress were no match for her determination.

"Ellie, are you feeling well?" Alexander asked after a moment. He set his cup down and leaned in toward her. She leaned away instinctively.

"Yes." She said. "No. Not really. I'm afraid my stomach is rather upset." She said as she looked up at him with weary eyes.

"Perhaps you should rest." He offered.

She shook her head. "I should be fine."

"Ellie-" He began. A blush crept across his face and he cleared his throat with timidness. She studied him with little emotion. "I should apologize for last night."

"Apologize?" She asked.

"I am too rash. If I upset you by..." He glanced down at the table.

"Do not be silly, Alexander." She said as she tried to smile at him. "We did nothing wrong. It was merely sleep."

"I thought I had upset you. I woke late last night and you were gone."

She stiffened again. "No." She said curtly.

He was silent for a moment. "Perhaps it would be best if I found you other housing arrangements."

"Don't be silly." She said again as she airily brushed her skirts and pushed her plate away from her. "We are doing nothing wrong." She said as she stood. "I have some things to gather before we leave." She explained as she turned to exit the room.

"Ellie, does he know?" Alexander asked quite suddenly. She froze, facing away from him.

"What?" The tremor in her voice was not as easily hidden as she would have liked.

"Does he know you love him?"

She felt growing fear in her chest and the pricking of tears at her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, Alexander." She said as she exited the room.

_**Erik**_

He waited until he had seen them enter the theater. The heavy cloak around him could not keep the chill from his soul. He turned and made his way quickly to the back entrance of the building. True to his expectations, there were no other souls in the area. He slipped inside and slowly made his way down a dark hall.

He could hear giggling in rooms as he passed them. He could hear a dull talk.

He felt alien to this place. He had entered it before late at night. He knew the layout. He knew the destinations but he still felt uneasy. He pulled the hood of the cloak lower over his face and breathed in steadily.

The light increased as he moved further inward. He paused for a moment when he heard her voice. He could feel it in his bones. She was speaking to another woman. They were arguing. He forced himself to move on.

The man's office door was wedged open.

He pushed his way in and slammed it behind him. The timid man sitting behind the desk started. Alexander's eyes widened with fear as he took in the dark covered figure. "What-"

"You must watch her." Erik said, his voice deep. Alexander's face grew clouded with confusion. "Watch her closely. Watch her eat. Watch her sleep. Guard her." Alexander's eyes widened.

"Ellie?" He whispered.

"You must protect her from herself. She is capable of destroying what we hold so dear." Erik felt odd. His face felt flush.

"Who are you?" Alexander said loudly.

"I am no one. A guardian used up." He felt the door behind him. He grasped the knob. "Watch her." Then he slipped out into the hall.

He was out the front door by the time Alexander had climbed over a stack of carefully sorted papers and was in the hall.

Erik scurried up the streets like a rat fleeing a scene. His relinquished grasp of his rights to protect Elodie made him feel guilty for his mere prescence in her world.

He did not stop until he reached the opera house.

Leaning heavily against the wall, cool air rushing around his face, he let a sob escape his body. All his anger and his determination were flying away from him. There would be no use in causing her pain. There would be no use in revenge against a man who had done no wrong.

His past lay before him like a dirty and tattered landscape. If he could not learn from it there would be no love, no pain, no Elodie.

His tears mixed with the blood on his blood of the men he had killed in the name of love and vengenace and pure viciousness. The fresh blood of a large cut across his palm. He did not fully understand the pain of such a physical thing any longer. He placed the wet palm on the wall and felt his body hunch against the cool stone.

He fell to the ground, the world falling away below him. Draining of color except for the smear of blood upon pale stone and a glowing aura somewhere off in the direction of the theater.

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**A/N: Ta-da?**


	29. Chapter 29: Celestial

**A/N: I am so (sooooooooo) sorry about this terribly late update ot this story. I was without my laptop for about a week and I had written the next chapter but no laptop. So I finally got my laptop back and, go figure, I've left the chapter somewhere. Now it's all sorted out. I hope you all can forgive me!**

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**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Celestial**

_**Erik**_

His body lay undisturbed for half a day. Covered in a terrifying shroud of black death, eyes did not pry. Minds felt the grim presence and fled rapidly. He had become an illusion in a solid world. A deceptively ephemeral phantom of a cursed location. What tied his existence to the cruel earth was a golden chain that would not give way despite fierce tugging at both ends. Abandoned in his pleadng and silent desperation, the hearts of men became all to clear. How easily one could pass within sight of his form and make themselves believe they did not really see. For it could have been a trick of the eye.

All that Erik was or had ever been was an apparition on a land too willing to doubt his existence and right to life. A pitiful creature in birth, he crawled under their feet. Trampled and ridiculed, his monstrosity mocked openly. Or gasped at by women or young girls in search of the nest thrill. He had been a mere passing scene on their way home to warmth, safety and love. A creature as much as a dog. A creature with a heart only meant for performing to keep him alive. With no feeling what so ever.

Somehow, by the fate of God or some powerful human interpretation thereof, he had lost all humanity. In adulthood he became a creature of violence. A terrible, psychopathic killer with a love of venegenace and strong blood lust. It was much easier to take him this way. Black and white situations allow one to feel less guilt. For all of his evil deeds, he regretted each one. But the great decision had been made. Perhaps by him or perhaps not.

Easier to make a dangerous creature than acknowledge the path that had led him to that moment. Easier for a conscience to see him with no feeling and no heart. Perhaps even easier to see him not at all. For a murderer in utter emotional turmoil and defeat was easy to ignore.

Erik lay there until dusk had begun to settle. His cloaked body heaving only slightly with the air in his lungs.

---

She came like a savior upon the scene. Her hooded cloak swallowed her minuscule form. She stopped in her tracks as she saw his weak mass upon the ground. Her breath caught in her throat.

Her feet flew as she raced to him. She feel to her knees and pushed the dark and heavy fabric back from his paling face. Her shadowed face haunted with fear and guilt. Her thin fingers traced each scar, depression and bump that riddled half of his face. They wound their way through his dark hair.

She bent her face over his. Her cool lips touching his only briefly. Her body shook as tears fell freely on his face.

She eventually heaved him up with unknown strength. Her small body shook but a little. Her skeletal arms pulled him slowly to a waiting carriage.

"Miss?" The driver said as he made to help her.

"No. She said as she stared him down. "Do not touch him. But please open the door."

Once safely inside she forced a smile. "Thank you Simon." She said. "Please take us to the de Chagny's." The driver nodded curiously. "And Simon," the man waited for her to continue. "best not to speak of this."

"Yes, miss." he said before he shut the door.

She sighed and looked upon Erik stretched awkwardly on the seat with her. "It shall be alright." She whispered. "Everything will be alright now, Erik." She touched a palm to his cheek. "My love."


	30. Chapter 30: Return

**A/N: I feel I can imagine the end to this story drawing to near. Not soon but not very far away. I still have to figure a way to write it without making it overly dramatic and needlessly reminiscent of a soap opera. The suspense! Hopefully (and I seem to say this a lot) I can update before another month passes. Classes are more stressful this semester.**

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**Chapter Thirty: Returned**

_**Elodie**_

_"There is much you do not know about this man." She said as her eyes trailed the length of Elodie's long face. "There is a world within him that you are banned from. A world that everyone is banned from. It is a place that he keeps to himself and only he is privy to the full horrors of his own reality."_

_"I do not care." She rebelled, letting her fiery eyes scorch the other woman. "I cannot care. My love is returned and it is far too strong to be ripped from him-"_

_"You are young and naive. You are filled with romantic ideas of love and the possibilities of happily-ever-afters. You cannot know-"_

_"And you are not?" Elodie said with quiet viciousness. "What about Raoul? What about-"_

_"Elodie, please!" She begged, her eyes wide with her plea. "There is so much more to my story, to Raoul's. There are things you can never know and consequences you can never understand." She sighed as she looked toward the closed door just steps away._

_"Than tell me."_

_"I should not. I am not the only one who holds our secrets."_

_"But it is your story as well, no? Do you not retain some rights to tell you what you want of your own life?"_

_Christine smiled meekly._

_"Perhaps. But what of your own story, Elodie? Why should I entrust these things with you? You who could not remember this man you now claim to love? You who remains a mystery."_

_Elodie bit her lip to quell the dreadful quivering._

_**Erik**_

_Lullabies hushed his groans of agony. Soft voices whispered cautiously as if treading into a mystically dangerous world. A gentle hum of vibration pulsed against him relentlessly._

_Hazy and dream-like, he forced his heavy lids to open. Vibrant colors were dulled by his senses. Tinted by dreams or false sight. He opened his mouth as if to gasp. Only a small breath pressed his lips and entered into his lungs._

_His panic increased tenfold as he tried futilely to move his limbs. They were like lead. A dream or a waking nightmare. His punishment?_

_To be punished for awful and selfish deeds, he was sure. His mind was filled with tormenting notes and awfully rigid composition set against a blank and empty theater with no one to listen. The acts of his past were ready to play out before his eyes and against his will. Fear raced through his views as Christine and Elodie rushed in. Their lips moved in silent odes to words he could not distinguish. His crimes waited eagerly to be spilled into ears of the naively unknowing woman that he fear, that he loved._

His mouth opened and a scream erupted.

_**Elodie**_

It was a cry of pain. One so loud it shattered her ears and the forced stability of her mind. Her heart raced uneasily. Christine stood startled. It soon faded into silence. They looked at one another. Christine's mouth opened.

It returned louder and more urgent. Elodie felt her nerves jump. A baby cried. Christine clutched her hands and looked into her eyes. "Go." She whispered. "Go to him." She pushed her gently toward the closed door. She did not say another word as she stared Elodie down before nodding and turning on her heel.

Elodie waited in anticipation, hand on knob, until the woman had disappeared and the baby's cry had lessened. She waited until her mind had calmed. She waited until another scream emerged from within the room.

Her hand yanked the door open.

---

His eyes blanched with sheer terror. His mouth opened cruely by the vocalization of all the demons sheltered within him. She rushed to his side. Clasping his cool hand, she hushed him. "Erik? Erik, please? Please tell me what is wrong?"

_**Erik**_

Her voice made its way to his brain like oxygen. His sight sharpened. Her face became a clear image before him. Her large eyes and her trembling lips were real, in the moment. Not removed from him. His body ached. He felt overwhelmed with emotion, pain and relief.

"Erik?" Her voice demanded as she grasped his hand as hard as she knew how to. His mouth relaxed enough for words to be formed.

"Are you real?" He managed to whisper. His eyes became wet as she smiled lightly.

"As real as you." She whispered back. Tears slipped out from under his eyelashes as he shut them in the hopes of keeping them from her.


	31. Chapter 31: Way of Her Worlds

**A/N: Another chapter up! Finally! I also wanted to let you know I have put up a blog that I plan on using for writing. I might post bits of Creatures of Flesh with photos that have inspired me. You cannot comment unless you have an account but you can still check it out if you want! If there ever gets to be enough demand I will move it to blogger or wordpress where you can all comment if you wish. If you want the link just message me.**

**I also wanted to thank you all so very VERY much for reading and commenting on COF. It means so much to me. Really. I'll try to udate a little quicker!**

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Chapter Thirty-One: Ways of Her Worlds

_**Elodie**_

He appeared to sleep uneasily. She could not be entirely sure of his level of consciousness. So to avoid any unnecessary jolt of fear in his mind she did not move a limb for hours. The only steady movements that came from her were the shallow breaths and blinks of her eyes.

His face seemed weary and full of exhaustion. His face, she realized, seemed old. Here was a man that was tired in every possible way. She cursed herself silently for having contributed to his current delima. She cursed herself for her own foolishness.

Christine entered the quiet room once but did not speak. She only stared. Then, having executed the proper studious look long enough, she had slipped out as silently as she had come.

The silence of the room gave Elodie plenty of time for her mind to wander restlessly.

She worried about Alexander. He would be missing her by now. He would be filled with nervous energy. The strange events that had transpired in the past few days were bound to have startled him into keen attention. Her absence after Erik's sudden appearance to Alexander must have worried him. She wondered how long it would be until he realized where she had gone. She was sure he would eventually. Alexander was not such a fool as to not find his way to Christine's home.

And when he arrived? What would she do then?

The fear of such a sudden conflict burdened her mind. She pushed the thoughts away and moved on.

Her parents.

She remembered their words of her delusions those many months ago when she had woken from a sickly slumber. She remembered the denial of Erik's existence when she most needed it. She was furious and unsure.

Why had they lied to her? What had been the purpose? She could not fathom why they had behaved so. Especially when, as she finally recalled, it had been Erik who had returned her to them.

She gazed down on his disfigured face. She feared it was his appearance that had caused them to reinvent their daughter's memory. She feared the retaliation that would come with the news of their reunion. For she was sure it would reach her parents that she had found him. She fully intended on removing herself from Alexander's house. Her intent, she decided rashly, was to take Erik back to that little sea-side cottage. There and only there could they be free of what awful realities were pushed on them by a society only too willing to overlook them both.

_**Erik**_

He did not sleep. His eyes remained closed but he could not find sleep. He could not find any sort of inner peace. His mind was awhirl with thousands of consequences of every action he had ever made. Especially those made in the name of love.

Had he just learned to stay from her she would not be threatening her own peaceful existence by sitting at his side. Had his mind thought of what would follow his decisions he might have truly let her go. His own selfishness damned everything he tried to do. Every good dead found some way to return to him as a deed gone foul.

She was so silent.

It caused his mind to ache. Her thoughts were cruelly unknown. He needed to know what would come of this dangerous uniting. He demanded some sort of punishment for having forced her to his side with such desperate and lonely acts.

The dread in his mind built with each passing moment. He waited for the abrupt interruption that would cause them to separate in a more painful manner than ever before. He feared that moment when her world would intrude upon them and demand she return to a world meant for her. A world not meant for him.

_**Elodie**_

She licked her lips with anticipation as she heard the front door being rapped harshly. She listened for the shuffled footsteps of a maid to retrieve what visitor happened upon the deathly silent house at this unearthly hour. She remained as still as was within her power as she listened intently to the voices now quietly muttering down the stairs.

"Monsieur, perhaps..." A female voice said muffled. "I really must..." was a male response. They continued on for some time. Elodie felt her bones growing stiff and her heart pounding loudly in her chest. Small beads of moisture formed on her clammy forehead. "Let me get Madame, please?" The maid said. The man did not respond.

Elodie looked down at Erik. His eyes were open, staring intently at her. She pushed a startled gasp down. Silence was her only answer. She, instead, grasped Erik's hand as firmly as she could.

"Ah, Alexander." Christine's voice rang loudly from the entrance to her home. "What can I do for you?"

"Christine," his voice said clearly. "where is she?" The was a slight termor as he finished.

"She? Alexander, I-"

"Ellie, I know you know where she is."

"Alexander, Elodie is here. She is sleeping." There was a moment of silence. "Do not be displeased, Alexander. She needed a night away. She tells me she is feelign quite exhausted. She wants a small holiday away from the theater. I told her she could stay here."

"Why did she not tell me? She just vanished!"

"Alexander, she is worried about upsetting you. Listen, perhaps you let her sleep tonight as it is late. Perhaps you come back tomorrow?"

Elodie felt tension build up rapidly. Guilt swallowed her. "Fine." Alexander responded finally.

_**Erik**_

The night passed in silent, unpleasant pain. His mind filled with things to say to her. His mouth felt stuffed with these same words and they threatened to choke him but he could not bring his vocal chords to acknowledge them. She slept uneasily in the chair that had been drawn up to his bedside.

He doubted she had the strength to do such a thing herself. The chair was large and furnished extravagantly with ornate carvings and thick upholstery. She looked sickly. As if her body were dwindling away before his eyes. As if she were unraveling. Again.

The words chocked him. His eyes watered.

He despised himself for such uncontrollable feelings. For such damnable fear.

_**Elodie**_

The sun mingled with her bare hands and the cold skin of her cheeks. Instinctively, she huddled further into the heavy, thick cloak around her. Her lips shivered and her large eyes stared at the ground. She pushed herself as far away from reality as she possibly could. It was not hard.

She forgot the house behind her, filled with a loving family who had thought they were done with this story. She forgot the carriage grinding its way over cobblestones. She forgot a friend in love. She forgot her duties and her determination to, above all, stay level with the world. She forgot the hunger roaring through her stomach and the nausea ripping through her head. She almost forget the man, sleeping, not far from her.

There was nothing in the world at that moment but herself.

She felt light and airy. Unreal, perhaps. Her large eyes blinked with heavy lashes and she surveyed a green and warm meadow. She swallowed and let her shaky and weak legs lift her up. Like a newly born deer, she struggle and stumbled a few steps before she fell to the ground.

The grass, so sweet and soft, felt too welcoming but she lay her head down none the less. She let a soft breeze ripple around her, whispering through the reeds of green and rippling over her light summer dress. In the distance she could hear a bird chirping.

_"Elodie, what will we do now?"_ His voice asked without emotion. _"Now that we've undone everything and ourselves, what will we do? I've told you this before but the world isn't ready for the two of us. Together."_

She rolled over on her side and stared at him lying next to her. He was sprawled out on his back, his dark clothing loose against his muscled body. His hands were propped behind his head and his scared face stared up into a canopy of trees and peeking blue sky. She smiled, her teeth showing.

_"Erik, we don't need this world. Not for our survival. We didn't before, did we? We had each other. You brought me back to this world with your two hands. I-well I was here for you when you were ready." _She said evenly as she grinned at his unmoving form.

_"There is so much you are unaware of, Elodie. So much pain and hurt." _He said after a minute.

She frowned. _"I can grasp these concepts as much you." _She said somewhat sternly.

He shook his head and closed his dark eyes. _"You're so young, Elodie. I cannot imagine how you could understand."_

_"Let me be the judge of that."_ She insisted as she tried to rein her displeasure.

He shook his head again. His dark eyes opened and he turned to face her. _"I would much rather not ruin this moment."_

---

"Ellie? Ellie?" Alexander's voice shouted into her ear. The darkness of the inside of her eyelids was pleasing. Much more pleasing than the confronting scene she knew lay before her. "Ellie?" His hands grasped her frail arms and scooped her body up to his. He shook her gently. "Ellie."

Her eyelashes fluttered as she opened her lids. Her dry lips parted in a small groan. She heard him laugh with a trace of relief. "Ellie, I was so worried."

She groaned and pushed herself away from him. Alexander sat beside her with a smile plastered over his uneasy face. Christine stood above with a look of stiff concern. "What happened?" She asked as she made to stand from the ground. Alexander jumped to his feet almost knocking her back down.

His hand grabbed her under the elbow and hoisted her up carefully. "You were lying on the ground." He said.

"It looked as if you had fainted." Christine said quietly. Elodie caught her eye and offered her a small smile.

"You are alright?" Alexander asked. She nodded her head in response.

"Would you like to come inside for tea?" Christine asked as she waved a hand back at her home. Alexander nodded his head eagerly. Elodie stood still.

"We'll be in in just a moment." Elodie said strongly despite the quivering of her insides. Fear began to gnaw at her.

She did not speak again until Christine had shut the door safely behind her. Alexander turned to her expectantly. His face seemed so young and untroubled. Elodie felt the igniting of all of her worries as they lit fire to her soul.

"Alexander," She began carefully. "there is something I wish you to know."

"I had this peculiar little feeling." He said with his easy grin. Her heart started to shred around the edges and she felt herself swaying off of her path. "A hooded man came to me in the form of darkness and told me stories." He joked as he crossed his arms nervously over his chest.

"I'm-I am afraid I was not honest with you." She said as she looked away from him. Her eyes wandered to a window on the upper floor of the house. She saw a curtain flutter. "When you asked me about the man-the one who came to you in the theatre- I told you I did not know of whom you were speaking. I am afraid I was not honest." She stared intently at the window. "I went to find him." She saw Alexander shift uncomfortably out of the corner of her eye. "Just to speak with him. I needed to speak with him. But when I went to the-his-when I went to find I found something I was not expecting." She finally looked away from the window and into Alexander's worried eyes. "He was terribly ill. He was unresponsive. I-I didn't know what to do. I could not think of what to do and I certainly did not have the mind to tell you anything." She lied easily. "I brought him here and I could barely leave his side. I-"

Alexander held up a hand. "Ellie, please. I don't need your excuses. I am simply a friend. I do not need to know every moment of you life." He said calmly. He turned to look at the window she had focused on so intently. "He is here?" She nodded slowly. "Perhaps I had better leave." He said in a business-like fashion that sent her head spinning.

"No, Alexander." She said suddenly as her hand shot out to grasp his arm. "Please. Stay." He looked at her with uncertainty. "I would like for you to stay."

"I would rather not meet him." He warned. "Not yet."

"I understand. Please. Stay. At least for tea." Her hand squeezed his arm tenderly. He grinned at her.

"If you insist, Ellie. I could never refuse you."


	32. Chapter 32: Routine Behaviors

Chapter Thirty-Two: Routine Behaviors

_**Elodie**_

Her fingers laced around her skirts easily as she grasped for some sentiment or brief offering of silence. Her mind felt as if it were on fire. A deadly fire that threatened to consume her completely.

The tea had passed in silence which had caused her mind to roar with uncertainty. The clues of any visible path deteriorated before her full cup. Alexander shifted uncomfortably every few moments and Christine sipped silently while pretending to read the morning newspaper. The tension was only severed by the ocassional giggling of a small child up the stairs or Raoul's cheery voice as he played the fatherly role.

Elodie had wanted to say so many things, none of which had any real importance, but her throat felt too dry and her lips too cracked. Her body trembled ever so slightly. She worried that if she were to speak her entire being would simply tremble into ash. So she said nothing and looked only at the tea before her.

Alexander, too, sat silently. She wondered if he feared the same things. She wondered if there was a slight chance that he could feel the same intense feelings as her. She wondered if she were not as alone as she thought. She liked to play little games such as this when she needed to distract herself.

As the minutes passed and her tea grew colder Elodie felt the need to remove herself from the situation all together. She wanted to stand from the chair and leave. It would have been simple to excuse herself and gone upstairs to Erik. Her limbs remained as firm as stones and her will never gathered the strength.

It was not until Christine finally spoke that she felt herself relax even a fraction of a bit. "Well, Alexander, I am very pleased you have stayed for tea. I should, perhaps, assist my husband with the children. I'll leave you two alone to talk." She stood and moved slowly out of the room.

Elodie looked at the clock. Fifteen minutes had passed since they had sat down. Her eyes wheeled back to Alexander. He made a grim attempt at a smile. "It's about time I leave." He announced in quiet shame. "The theater and all." He supplied as he made to stand.

Her mouth remained shut. Her tongue, it seemed, had turned to stone. She couldn't even bring herself to nod for fear of her neck being too weak to counter the action. She felt sadness tinge at her eyes.

"If you should want to return home, or rather, I mean, to my home I will always be willing to house you. If you, umm, should find that you do not want to return to work at the theater perhaps, if it is not an inconvienance, you could let me know by post or what have you. Ummm because I would like to fill the position soon if you will not be coming back." He fumbled with his waistcoat buttons. He turned toward the door. "Ellie," He said, his back to her. "if there ever comes a time where this-when you find yourself in need of a foot planted firmly on the ground you know I am here for you." He made another step. "And, Ellie, I fear I will always love you."

She closed her eyes as tight as she could. She tried to focus on the humming in her ears rather than her own lack of response. She clenched her teeth firmly and her fingers worked their way into a small hole in her skirt. She held her body as stiff as she could. She remained so until well after she heard him leave, the front door closing behind him.

Her feet scurried up the stairs in desperate search of Christine. She could not find her anywhere. She peeked into bedrooms and around corners. In the end she decided she to make her way slowly back to Erik's room. It was here that she found Christine.

The door was ajar. She wedged herself beside it, her ears alert. The discussion taking place inside seemed intensely private, unaware that Elodie and Alexander had parted ways.

"Erik, this charade cannot go on! How much longer do you expect to keep these things from her? How much longer do you expect she will remain silent?"

"I'm no fool." He said angrily. "She is already on a dangerous edge. I cannot add to anything so teneous. What would happen if I pushed her over?"

"Erik, she's not a fool either. She knows something has happened between us. She can sense it." Christine's voice was riddled with worry. "You must tell her!"

"Christine, why would you force these things upon her? Why would I? She is innocent to such matters and I prefer she remained that way."

"Erik," Christine hissed. "Do you really believe her to be so innocent? Do you really believe her to be some fragile thing? What, on God's Earth, do you really know about her? What do any of us truly know about her? She covers herself up in silence and hides behind conflicts of others'. What is it about her that you love, Erik? What is about her that makes you so weak and unwilling to crush her like you have so many? Like you have done to-"

"To you?" He replied in a hostile tone. "Christine," He continued after a moment. "I have lived my life in horrid ways. I have destroyed so much. It is because of you I learned the true destruction of my actions. It is because of you that I cannot bring myself to do any of the things that would have been too simple for me to do in the past. You, Christine, you alone are responsible for my silence. I have seen the pain I can cause just by looking at you. By remembering you when we have been apart. I could not bear to imprint these same things upon her for fear of seeing the same pain everyday..."

Elodie pulled herself away from the door. Her legs shook uneasily and her hands twitched. Her eyes stared ahead and she contemplated words she no longer wanted to understand. Was it all for Christine? His silence, his sorrow, his fear of bringing pain. Despite what she was sure of in her heart, that she and Erik had some bond, she felt an opening with which to lose herself.

This could be the grand gesture of fate. The single thing she needed to hurl herself away from reality, from the fate that she seemed destined to fullfil in any case.

She was vaguely aware of Raoul appearing at the end of the hall before she turned and slipped down the stairs. Her feet moved casually as she grabbed the heavy cloak she had deposited beside her chair at tea. She felt her fingers grasping door knobs. The wind was on her skin. The sun was in her eyes. It was alright. She knew the way.

_**Erik**_

"Stop evading the issue, Erik." Christine said as she brushed aside his heartfelt declaration. He had meant every word, she was sure, but he continued to brush aside the issue she wished to resolve. "Why do you love her?"

"I-I don't know." He said quietly. "I have tried to find a reason for it but there are none. It is something that just is."

"Nothing just _is_."

"This is." He said with determination. "It is inescapable despite how far I run from it. I cannot begin to describe how Elodie has invaded every sense of my being. I am a prisoner to her smile and a slave to her steady strength of belief. She is an outcast with a foot in the door and a foot outside. She can know my world and yet be free of ever understanding why. She's-she's-"

Christine stared at him relentlessly, without pity. The words hovered on the tip of Erik's tongue and threatened to throw themselves from between his lips. He held them tightly and look at Christine absentmindedly. "Well?" Christine said after a long, silent moment.

"She's just something special. Something unique." He finished as his eyes drifted down to the bed.

"Well," Christine said as she rose. "you had best come up with some way to let her know because I doubt she'll accept the lack of explanation from you."

Christine left him. He stared at his hands. His mind should have been busy with thought. It should have been buzzing with plans and ideas. All that occupied it was a silence more startling and suffocating than he had ever before experienced.


	33. Chapter 33: Stone

A/N: Another chapter up so quickly. I felt inspired. Out of the minor rut I had gotten in to after I realized I hadn't updated in so long. In any case, thank you all for reviewing. It means a lot to me!

I haven't a clue how I am going to end this story yet and I have no idea if it will happen soon or not. So, for the time being, you can continue to expect (hopefully) timely updates! [=

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Chapter 33: Stone

_**Elodie**_

It seemed that, despite the number of times her mind declared otherwise, she slipped so easily back into a tainted world of morbid, unclear thoughts. She would find certain thoughts nagging somewhere between her ears and the back of her skull. They would start quietly and as events escalated, as disappointments seemed to unleash themselves, these thought became louder. Loud enough to be registered a peculiar voices inside of her head. Voices that sounded like the noise her vocal chords made as they vibrated.

Since she had returned from the horrid asylum on the coast of France, she had thought these feelings, these voices would go away. She hadn't remembered much of anything. She had only felt how drained, how unbearably weak she was. Yet, as she gathered strength they came soaring back. Now they seemed to be eating her from the inside out.

She could hardly bring herself to eat. It felt like treason to bring morsels to her lips when she felt so awful and responsible for the misery of others. She was tired yet she could not allow herself to sleep. So instead she worked and pondered and drove herself further into a demented hole.

She had let her parents tell her of her own past. This, she discovered, had been inaccurate. She had allowed herself to wrap her hopes around Alexander and now she had burned so many of the ropes and tethers that kept them tied . Her own stupidity, her own lack of courage, had destroyed even the tiniest semblance of friendship they could have managed. She feared there would be nothing there to salvage.

As for Erik, she felt so tumultuous that she worried she would injure him further. His fragile state, it would appear, had drained him of all power he had possessed. He preferred to sit and be silent. This was something she had thought was possible until she had been sitting with Alexander in that empty room. Silence might have been welcoming in the past but now she felt as if one more minute of silence would cause her veins to burst and her mouth to fly open in agony.

There were so many thoughts in her head. So many. They were loud and rambuctious and they fought vigorously for power. It seemed as if her head contained a million trains rushing towards each other at full speed. She could feel the inevitable drawing nearer, she could taste defeat on her tongue.

She stumbled down the sunny street, barely aware of the scurrying children or the rolling carriages. She felt rickety and uneven, like a doll unhinged at the joints. She wondered if a few more steps would lead to her collapse. She looked back casually as if to stare after the limbs she imagined she dropped behind her.

Her vision felt hazy and white. She could feel a cold sweat breaking out over her entire face. The beads of sweat creeping down her back made her skin stand on edge. Her legs grew weak and she clutched to the side of a brick building in an attempt to hold herself up right.

The world twisted and turned before her.

Breaths, raspy and indecisive, shook her lungs. Her mouth watered. She scampered slowly toward a dim side street as she felt her stomach rolling. Her fingernails clung to the dirty ground as she fell to her knees. Her spine lifted upward as she heaved rapidly. Her empty stomach offered nothing for her efforts and she tried again, dry heaving violently as tears streaked down her face.

The pain was excruciating. She wanted it to end. She wanted everything to simply stop. She wanted peace and silence and softness. She wanted a past that was extinct and a future that she could not support.

She doubled over on her side and began to cry in the shadows of a building. People passed on the busier street and she felt herself becoming invisible. She tucked her knees up to her chest and tried to soften the blows of the harsh sobs against her ribcage.

Life was too complicated. There were too many decisions to make and too much pressure to make the right decision quickly. The world wanted to split her apart. Each person she loved wanted something from her that she was not sure she could give. She was tired of being someone. She wanted to be no one. She wanted to drift silently down a river, letting the water slowly fill her lungs until everything turned black. She wanted her life to be over.

_"Ellie," Magdaleine called in a terrified voice. "Ellie, please come down." _

_Elodie could not allow herself to look down to the gathering of girls standing on the balcony below. She knew she would find terror. She would find pale faces. She wanted to think only of herself at that moment. _

_The wild twisting bird that perched itself off of the woman's arm would be her sanctuary for the last moments, she decided. None of those girls, those so called friends of hers, would be able to convince her to come down. _

_Her fingers dug into a stone crevice as she stared up at the moon. _

_"Ellie, get down here now!" Another voice shouted from below. _

_She wanted to twist back and stare at them. She wanted to taunt them. _You could come up and catch me, if you like, _she wanted to say, _though we know you won't. I'm barely from the edge, you know. _Her mind was spinning with replies that never reached her dry lips. She licked them slowly as she raised a hand from the stone bird. _

_Screams erupted from below her. _

_"Ladies, be quiet." Madame Bevereux said. _

_"She's up there, madame." Magdaleine called. Elodie could practically see the dissent running through her peers. She wanted to laugh at how foolish they were. To think they could stop her from doing it. To think a teacher could achieve the same. She grinned as she raised the free hand higher, testing her balance._

_"Elodie," Madame Bevereux called. "could you look at me please?" The woman sounded calm and even. _

_"I'm afraid not, madame." Elodie sang. "For I'm afraid I might lose my balance." She giggled. "Musn't lose one's balance."_

_"Ellie, how did you get up there?" The older woman asked, trying a route of distraction._

_"Oh it was simple really." She said as she threw her head back to stare at the zenith. "I started on her back, it's rather smooth so it was difficult. I climbed on the edge of the balcony and grabbed her arm. I just kept grabbing until I was at her head." Elodie said as she blinked slowly. "Then it was only a matter of pulling myself out here. I wanted to see the bird up close." She lied as she leveled her head to stop the rushing sound in her ears. _

_"Ellie, give me your hand and I'll help you back down." Madame Bevereux said. Elodie shook her head fiercely._

_"I shan't come back down." She let her flying hand drop back to the stone. "You think I'm too heavy for this tiny bird." She accused in a hollow voice. "You think I'll break it right off and it'll fall down to the ground and break."_

_"Elodie-"_

_"I won't let that happen." She said as she turned to stare at her teacher. She twined her thin neck carefully. Madame Bevereux was hoisted next to the statue's arm, holding out her hand as if beckoning for Elodie to gathered around the balcony entrance and watched with silent, haunted looks. _

_She turned back to the open space, the empty space._

_"Elodie, why are you doing this?" Madame Bevereux asked slowly._

_"I want to see what it's like to fly." She sighed. "Just for a moment. Before I die." She raised both hands quickly from the stone. Her mind relished the sound of gasps as she teetered on the bird. Her bones felt as if they were being crushed into dust as they smashed against the stone beneath her. "You have a dream, don't you madame? Of something you want to do before you die? I think everyone does. They just won't admit it. You see, if one doesn't admit they're going to die they can just go on pretending they won't. Well, I'm not pretending. I know I'm going to and my dream is to fly. Just for a little bit."_

_"Elodie, if you don't come down here I'll have to send for Pierre. You know how angry he gets when we wake him at night." She threatened. Elodie laughed, feeling the vibrations course through her body._

_Threats didn't scare her now. The stern arithmetic teacher did not scare her. Nothing scared her now._

_"I can just fly away before he ever reaches me." She said defiantly. There was silence. She could hear feet shuffling. She could hear girls start to whisper. The sound was easy to mistake as a breeze whistling across empty space._

_Elodie leaned down and wrapped her arms around the bird. She nestled her skull against the hard surface and closed her eyes. She only wanted to be free. They all must try to make her do as they wish for some selfish reason. They could never just let her be. _

_There was nothing in the world that would set her free. She would be trapped to expectations and ideas of her being. She would have to favor a person in herself that was made up. She would have to slick on a mask and let it become her entire face. The world would have nothing different. _

_She tried to be proper like everyone wanted but her spine wasn't straight enough and she laughed too much. She was too quick to jump at ideas such a smoking and card games and running. She was not a lady like the world wanted._

_She tried to be trim. After all, the seamstress told her she had gained weight. Her clothes would cost extra now. The mere thought of the measuring tape being wrapped around her waist sent shivers down her spine. So she decided, to save the efforts of the seamstress and the money of her father, she would eat less. Besides eating was such a hassle. _

_She tried to be smart. She studied and read until her bloodshot eyes drooped with exhaustion. Yet she never gathered the praise of the teachers. She never received a smile or a hint of approval. So she kept striving to be smart but the attempts, it appeared, were futile._

_Now she was trying to erase herelf, ease the burden of a world so sick of her attempts. Yet they wouldn't have that. Not at all. They would keep poking and prodding at her even after her smashed corpse lay on the stones below. She would become some sort of example of an ultimate failure and they would make sure she knew that before she jumped._

_"Mademoiselle Papillion," Monsieur Pierre's voice thundered behind her. She restrained herself from cringing, from crying out in fright. "come down here with me." Elodie did not move. "You leave me no choice than, I'm afraid."_

_His rough hand grased her thin ankle and pulled. Her mind went into an absolutely flurry of panic. She started to scream loudly as she pulled her down the arm of the statute. _

_"Let go!" She screamed as she tried to grasp the stone. "Let go or I'll throw myself off!" She screamed loudly as she began to twist her tiny, skeletal body about. _

_"Don't be an idiot." His voice was cruel and uncaring. "You weigh nothing. I can hold on forever. You'll only hurt yourself."_

_"Let go!" She screamed as she began to twist dangerously close to the edge._

_His hand yanked on her leg with such force that she had no choice but to go willingly. Her body slid down the extended stone arm. Her legs hung off opposing sides as she cried, wrapping her arms around the stone. She felt his hands lift her body off of the stone._

_"Let go!" She moaned as she tried to kick at him. Her legs lacked the strength to cooperate. He held her down to Madame Bevereux who grasped her tightly until her feet were firmly on the ground. "Let go." She sobbed as the teacher instructed Magdaleine to grab her other arm. Scorching hot tears rained from her eyes as she was dragged into the building and down a flight of stairs. "Please let go." She managed before the nurse forced her down onto a bed and fixed firm leather straps around her arms and legs._

_"Send for her parents." The nurse said dully as she turned away from Elodie. "This girl should be removed immediately."_


	34. Chapter 34: A Close

**A/N: _Hopefully this one shows up. It didn't before. It also didn't show my final version of this chapter. Ugh. In any case, I can't remember exactly what I wrote but I know it was an apology of sorts for this drama. Something about how I am unsure of how the story is going to unfold. Only that I vaguely know the destinations. So bear with me while I realize it. Also, thanks for all of the reviews. It really helps!_**

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Chapter 34: A Close

_**Elodie**_

_There was such deadly silence when they arrived. She wondered if everyone had just vanished, slipped into thin air and abandoned her to the wrath and confusion of two adults who were at their wits end. _

_The thick leather straps bonding her with the infirmary bed felt suffocating. She struggled lightly against them. The sound of shoes clicking on the floor outside ruptured in her brain. She closed her eyes and sucked in air. _

_She could hear mumbling. The conversation carried on as the voices drew nearer. They did not speak to her. Rather they spoke of her as they huddled around her bed. Whispers and comments passed between her parents, the nurse and the headmistress. _

_Elodie bit her tongue. Anything to block the sound of their words. She didn't care what they were saying. She would rather not know at all._

_It wouldn't take a genius to realize she was sick. They would begin to question. _What is she sick with? Will she die? Is it contagious?

Yes, _her mind declared triumphantly. _It's so contagious you're being contaminated even now. You will all become so ill that you will scarcely be able to stand. Your mind will be such a horrid place to be. Yet it's the only place you're allowed to be. You will feel insane and there will be nothing you can do.

_Elodie let a soft giggle fly out of her mouth. Eyes turned sharply on her. Despite the fear coursing through her veins she laughed again. She continued to laugh with increasing volume and hysteria. Tears streaked down her cold cheeks as she howled with delight and started to yank on the leather. _

_She was deranged, she decided. _

_"Ellie, dear." Her father's voice was close to her ear. Nothing could stop her laughing. "Ellie, what is wrong?"_

_She crackled as she turned her head slowly to stare at him. "Why hello papa." Her voice was sickly sweet. "Did you know I'm dying?" She giggled as she locked his gaze with her own. _

_She watched with relish as her father shook his head sadly and turned his back on her. _

_Peals of laughter continued to pour out of her like great gushes of river being emptied into the ocean. She was contaminating them all, she was certain. Filling them up with her sickness. Perhaps this way they could understand._

_"Elodie," the headmistress said, her sharp face appearing directly in her line of vision. "you're going away." The woman had no sympathy in her voice, no emotion at all. Elodie felt shivers run the entire length of her fading body. She wondered momentarily if bones could feel the cold. "We've recommended a place for you. A sanatorium. A good place. They'll take care of you there."_

_Elodie could hear soft crying from her father. _

A sanatorium. An asylum. Insane.

_"No!" She suddenly screamed. Her eyes widened with fear. Her bones began to quake violently in the bed. She was coming apart. She was going to break apart right here, before everyone. "NO!" She screeched. _

_The headmistress turned to the nurse and nodded. Elodie began to flail hysterically against the bonds. Her screams echoed throughout the infirmary. They flew past the shut door and winded their way through the school halls. Her lungs felt as if they were on fire. Her body, taken by a sudden surge in energy, was fighting against her bondage fiercely. The headmistress stepped back, her face riddled with sudden uncertainty. She turned to look at the nurse._

_"Restrain her." The nurse said coldly, noting the leather straps were tightened. _

_Elodie felt heavy bodies hold her arms still. She shook her head viciously as the nurse approached with a sickly looking tincture. "Hold her head, please." The nurse ordered. _

_Elodie squeezed her eyes closed. A firm grip took over her head. She felt a cool hand squeeze her mouth open. The liquid dripped into her mouth. She tried, at first, to keep from swallowing it. It quickly became clear that if she didn't swallow she would simply drown. _

_She swallowed as tears peeked from beneath closed lids._

_The world went still as she gave up. She did not fight anymore. She let herself settle into a half-state of sleep. _

_She never saw the inside of the school again._

Elodie's legs shook as she slowly got to her feet. She leaned on the brick wall as she wiped her eyes.

The sun was shining brightly on the main street. She lowered her gaze as a couple rushed by her. Calmly, she sucked in air and exhaled.

_Don't be such a fool, Elodie. Go back. Sit and be silent. Do as they wish and wait for your time. It will come. _

She moved onto the busy street and started back to Christine's home. She stopped occasionally to peer into shop windows and to study smilng people. She mimicked their grins and held her head high on her weak neck.

Her eyes were hollow but she didn't plan at look anyone in the eye. No one would detect a thing.

Warmth drifted lazily about her.

"Elodie!" Christine's voice jumped at her the moment she had reentered the house. She reigned in a spasm of surprise and grinned eagerly at the older woman. "Where have you been?"

"Out." She supplied.

Christine's eyes focused on her suspiciously before shrugging slightly. "Erik has been asking for you."

"I'll be right up." She mumbled as she turned her gaze away from Christine. Despite her wish to play the part, she was unsure of her determination to act in front of Erik.

She wandered carefully up the stairs. Soft voices seemed to drift from every corner of the house. Her heart was beating loudly, a drum signaling steady fear. A fear that pulsed through her veins as her fake smile faltered.

She reached his room and stood staring at the wooden door.

"Elodie?" A voice asked behind her. She jumped, her hand flying to her chest. She attempted to stop the dangerous fluttering rhythm. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's alright." She managed as she spun on her heel to smile eagerly at Erik. He stood, slightly scruffy from days of bed rest and a general lack of concern for his appearance. His dark eyes traveled across her face, studying her carefully. Her smile fell and she stared down at the floor.

"I am tired of lying in bed." He declared suddenly. She peeked at him. He had turned his face away from her as he stared down the hall.

"Would you like to sit in the garden?" She asked quickly. "It's quite nice out. There's a slight breeze and the sun is offering more than a fair share of warmth."

He was silent.

"Unless you had other plans?"

"No." He said quickly. He stepped back from her. "The garden is fine."

She could feel his reluctance as they descended the stairs and exited the house.

"You look well today." She declared as she settled herself on a bench. He did not sit beside her.

"Hardly." He scoffed. "How fairs Alexander Broucher?" His voice contained a hint of displeasure. She let his words fall before she mustered the courage to answer.

_**Erik**_

"He's quite hurt." She said with a slight trace of sadness. "I'm afraid I've maimed his sense of trust and love."

"If anything you've maimed his ego." He spit back harshly. He watched her shift uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye. Her pale face turned downward once more, her large eyes watering. He watched her thin hands clutch heaps of skirt and twine it around her bony fingers. "After all, were you not living with him. He had claim to everything that one could want. Suddenly it is all for nothing. What did you say to him?" He demanded much more aggressively than he had meant to.

"I hardly think it's any concern of yours what we've said to one another." She said quietly.

Erik turned his head until he could no longer see her. His eyes closed as he tried to find some semblance of balance.

"He is a good man."

"Of course he would be."

"Erik, he expected nothing of me other than our friendship."

"Excuse me for failing to believe that, Elodie." His voice sounded bitter and full of distrust. "A woman does not take up living with a man only to be friends. A woman would know better. For if said man does not expect anything, the public will. They will talk. As surely they have."

"I hardly care what _the public_ has to say on the matter." She said angrily. "My life is a private affair. I wish everyone would start treating it as such!" He heard her rise suddenly. "But that can't be, can it? Can it, Erik?" Her voice was rising. "All must talk. They must whisper things they know nothing about. I have never wanted to be an open book. I have never stood before the crowd asking for their attention."

"It does not matter. They will talk regardless."

"Why?" Her voice shook with frustration. She grasped his arm and pulled. "Why?"

"It is the way things are."

"No!" She shouted. She moved directly into his line of view, her angry face glaring in the sun. "Things are never that simple. If you know why, Erik, if you are so adept to this world's policies than please, tell me why."

Her mocking was evident. He recoiled from her.

"You are a woman." he said quietly. "A woman of good breeding. A woman who has family and lineage and money. You are the sort of woman who has attended the most extravagant parties and socialized with the most cunning individuals. You are money, through and through. That gives you some public appearance."

"Ha!" She laughed. "Hardly! Why does no one pay attention to my sister? My mother?"

"Because you have made an absolute scandal of yourself!" He yelled. "You have proved the more interesting story to follow." She fell silent, her large eyes drifting always downward. He felt anger surge through him. "You've been in a sanatorium, you've come back to society. You've moved into a house with a single man. It's a drama spectacular!"

"I hardly-"

"They want a show, Elodie! They want something to gossip over. Something to laugh over. And you play the part so willingly."

"I only wanted-"

"None of that would matter if you wanted nothing to do with those parasites but you want everything to do with them." Erik could feel he was saying too much. He was letting loose all of his fears, all of his frustrations. This world that was Elodie's was something he despised. For a lack of inclusion was a painful thing to experience. She seemed determined to remain part of such of a world. By way of this she was determined to leave him drifting aimlessly in empty, dark loneliness.

"How-what makes you say such a thing?" She said in a wounded voice.

"You slip back into proper society so easily. You feel all of these misgivings inside yet you slick on a pretty smile and prance out before them, ready to fulfil their expectations. You claim to not care but you are deeply wounded every time you can see their disappointment."

"You don't know me!" She hollered as she glared at him. "You couldn't possibly know me." Her eyes were filled with anger. "You think just because you met me once that you know me. You don't. That wasn't me. I was sick. I was dying. That was hardly me."

"What was wrong with you. Elodie?" He asked, his head spinning with a variety of question suddenly set free by confrontation. "Why were you on the brink of death? Share with me what caused such a thing?"

She was silent. "You wouldn't understand." She said lamely.

"Please, enlighten me." His voice was sick with arrogance. He found, terrifyingly, that he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't spare her from these fierce emotions.

"You wouldn't understand because no one cares about you!" Her voice shook the air around them. Her eyes grew large as she spoke, her body trembled. "You would never understand the need. This need to please someone other than yourself." He took a step back from her. "There's more in this world than what you want. There are other people." Her thin body was practically vibrating as her bones shook. "The problem is not me, the problem is you. If you wanted to be included in this world than you would realize that you must make sacrifices, you must try to be the best you can be."

He looked down at her, his face contorted in terror and anger. She stood as strong as she knew how. This tiny woman who had ruined him.

_**Elodie**_

She knew the minute she had said those dreadful, untrue words that she had made a terrible mistake. She tried to restrain herself from blowing out on a horrible, backwards ramble. She tried to reign in the words that sounds pathetic and useless in her mouth and ears. Yet they spilled out. The gushed out as if a dam had been broken and she couldn't put a stop to it.

She felt this surging need to defend herself at any cost. To try to defend her actions and her behaviors. She knew she sounded like a lost contradiction. She knew her words were hurtful and wild. She was merely lashing out in an attempt to deviate from her problems. Nothing at that point had worked so she had tossed in a bit of the truth. It sounded cruel and filled with spite.

She fell silent. Her eyes looked up at him, fearful. His face was filled with disgust. She watched helplessly as he turned on his heel and disappeared into the house.

The garden was silent. The sun had dipped behind a cloud and she shivered.

"Erik." She whispered as she stared after him. "I'm such an idiot."

The thought of letting him go was plausible. It was easier than correcting the devious misdeeds and hurts she had administered. She was so very tired.

When she shook her head to clear the thoughts she felt suddenly uneven. She gasped in an attempt to correct the feeling. She held out her arms to steady her failing balance.

A minuted passed. She blinked slowly and took a step. Finding that she did not topple over in an embarrassing display of weakness, she started to run into the house.

The door was shut but the sound of rummaging was evident. She did not think to knock. She only threw the door open. "Erik!" He stood, turning to look at her. "I'm sorry." She muttered as she took in the view.

He was compiling a small grouping of belongings.

"I'm sorry." She said, nearly hysterical. "Please forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive." His voice sounded cold and distant. "You have done nothing wrong." He turned from her.

"No." She sobbed. "Stop." She rushed him and stared shoving things away from him.

"Elodie." His voice was warning.

"I didn't mean a thing. A single thing. Don't go!" She was crying now as she tried to shove him away from the bed. Her limp body did little to stop his actions.

"It has little to do with you. I am leaving because I am tired of this place. I am tired of people."

She whimpered as she collapsed to the ground and wrapped her arms around his legs. "Please, I'm such a fool. You must not listen to me."

"Let go." The frustration was ripe.

"You can't be tired of me. Please. Erik! I can't bear to lose you again."

He crouched and pried her arms away from his legs. "I am leaving, Elodie. I am sick of you. You wear me thin with your hatred. You will be much better off." He sounded unconcerned, as if this were the easiest thing in the world for him to do.

She watched through teary eyes as he pulled a hood over his face. His arms gathered a few things and he moved toward the door.

"Erik!" She sobbed. "I will tell you everything. I'll tell you everything you want to know. Just let me explain!" She watched with anxiety as he continued toward the door. "I want to die, Erik."

Her heart fluttered as he turned to look at her with his dark, haunting eyes. His face was shadowed.

"It appears you can have anything you want." He said, his words leaving an icy impact. "I can't imagine what is stopping you."

_**Erik**_

He could feel that familiar pit opening up in his stomach as he walked away from the room. He could feel the struggle to breath evenly. The feeling of the dreadful house pressing in on him was too much to bear.

Christine stopped him near the front door. "Erik, what is going on?"

He barely stopped. "Tell her everything, Christine. Tell her everything." He pushed onward. His legs felt like stone yet he continued onward.

He was tired and heartbroken and old. Far too old to behave in this manner. Elodie was young and wild and utterly unsure of herself. He wanted her with his whole heart but his mind was far too strong to allow such a foolish thing.

His mind only wanted to return to the countryside. Compared to such turmoil and struggle, the emptiness of a little seaside cottage would feel like absolute solace.


	35. Chapter 35: Unveiled

Chapter 35: Unveiled

_**Elodie**_

She tried to maintain a steadfast calm. Her face felt as if it were made of stone, unmovable amongst the searching eyes of others. Her humiliation at her behavior only irked her slightly. It was the great crushing idiocy she felt that truly claimed her. She had always been a fool. She had known this. Now Erik would as well. Perhaps they all would learn, with time, how utterly foolish she was.

Christine's eyes lingered carefully over her face. She made eye contact occasionally and watched with a blush of sadness as Christine's eyes darted away. What had happened in the room above obviously was no secret. She was sure that Christine had seen him leave the house. She was sure that it was entirely her fault. Yet she could force no conversation about his whereabouts. It felt as if she could remain silent and they would never have to discuss him again.

The room was so empty with sound that she could hear the children outside playing. She could hear the bushes rustling just outside as wind stirred them up delightfully. She placed an unsteady hand upon the arm of her chair and looked toward her friend. The woman across from her stared down at her lap as she drew a needle out of a sock, mending. Elodie sucked in breath to allow room for a sigh.

Christine glanced up cautiously. Their eyes locked for a moment before Elodie forced herself to look away. "There is no use pretending." She said, startling herself. "I assume you heard everything." Her voice sounded full of flat affect. She sounded so dull.

"I heard enough to see that he will not be returning." She said coolly. Elodie shivered a little.

"I am a fool." She said in the same voice, as if she hardly cared. "A fool with a mouth far too willing to oblige such a charcteristic."

"The mouth of a fool will always do so." Christine said without looking up. They spoke as if there were no need for emotion. Elodie wondered if life were really so simple. Perhaps all of her troubles would go away if she talked as if she did not care a bit about the outcome.

"He was quite angry?" She asked as she peeked at Christine. She watched her stop working momentarily as if pondering the question.

"No." She responded reluctantly. "He was tired."

Elodie fell silent as she thought of Erik. Her words still stung her own mind. She could only imagine what they did to him. His face filled with some terrible mix of disgust, regret and sorrow. It would haunt her dreams forever, she feared.

"I was such a fool." Her voice cracked and she had to bow her head to try to hide her emotion.

"Yes. I believe you were." Christine agreed. She set aside her work and placed her hands in her lap. Her dark eyes studied Elodie calously. "What on Earth did you say?"

Elodie shook her head viciously. "Horrible things. I don't know why I said them." She lied.

"Yes, you do." She fought back. "I believe you know everything about yourself, Elodie. I believe you hide bits and pieces of yourself. The pieces that you deem unworthy of a mention. You hide the pieces that can hurt and kill. I believe you know precisely what is wrong with you and that you know precisely why you do not allow yourself to rise above it."

Elodie felt a flame of discomfort shoot through her body. "I-I don't. Things are so difficult to explain." She mumbled.

"Yes, so difficult." Christine's voice was filled with a sneer. "We all bear burdens, Elodie. No one's life is what they thought it would be. No, not even mine. We all have painful things hidden in our past. If not painful to others than, at least, painful to ourselves. You are selfish and childish to think you are the only one who possesses such trials of life."

"You couldn't possibly understand." She hissed as she gripped the chair tightly. "I am bombarded day and night with these thoughts. They-they aren't mine. They don't belong to me but they do."

Christine scoffed openly. "You are insane, than? That is your defense? That is what you offer up for the betrayals you commit?"

"What betrayals?" She said unevenly.

"I, Elodie, am no fool." Her eyes glared upon her with mistrust. "You live with a man, an unmarried man of your age. The talk is enough to make one's head spin. As for that, you turn around the moment you seem to remember another that lurked in your past. You cast off your young man as thoughtfully as you can and you try to claim the other without a thought of how his life has been. Have you ever thought of him once? Have you ever thought of either of them once? As far as I can tell the primary concern in your life is yourself."

"Christine, I never meant to-"

"Oh I know." She said, her voice rising dangerously. "You never meant to make Alexander fall in love with you. You never meant to destroy his romantic beliefs. You never meant to remember Erik or find yourself unable to stay away from him. I know that you never meant to ruin one's dreams and destroy the other's only hope. You never mean to do anything, do you, Elodie?"

"That's not true." She fumbled, confused. Her head was aching. The whole world was turning against her. They all hated her. Couldn't they see that she tried. She tried so hard but it was never good enough for any of them. What did they want from her?

"Oh but it is. Perhaps it's time you tell me how you met Erik. Maybe you would like to tell me what you were doing in that sanatorium."

Elodie felt the cold wash over her. She felt as if her entire being had gone numb. She could hardly bear to breathe for fear the feeling would infiltrate her lungs and heart. She was certain she was suffocating in the feeling that was so thick she could have tried to swim out of it. Her mind became blank of all emotion and all thought. The shock and panic ripped through her like a knife. She exhaled so harshly she felt as if her lungs had ripped against her bones.

"What?" She managed after a moment.

"The sanatorium. I know about it, Elodie. I know quite a few things but your past before Erik is a mystery. Perhaps it is time you reveal it." Christine's voice had turned so soft that Elodie was sure she had misheard.

"I-I can't." She whimpered as she felt the warning sirens in her head.

_Don't do it, Elodie. Don't you dare. You want them to find out who we really are? You want them to know about the school balcony? Do you want them to know about mother and father? How they never seemed to realize how they made you feel? Do you want them to be angry and humiliated when they realize you've started to speak of it. You're nothing but a scandal, Elodie. One they fully regret. You're nothing but trouble upon their poor souls. Everything is supposed to be in the past now. You're supposed to be better. Now shut, up Elodie. You'll ruin everything. _

She was vaguely aware of Christine talking but the words failed to reach her ears.

"They will be so angry with me." She cried out suddenly. "They have tried to cover it as best they can. I can't do that to them." Christine's mouth was open, mid-sentence, as she looked toward her.

"Elodie, if this past of yours is so deadly to your very being, you must tell it. You cannot keep it to yourself."

"Why not?" She retaliated. "You want to know so you can mock me. So you can find a way to destroy me. Just as you think I have done to Erik and Alexander. It is not your secret. It's mine and it is theirs and I refuse to let them down."

"Elodie." Christine pleaded. "Please."

She shook her head once more. "It shouldn't have happened this way." She sobbed suddenly. Her hand flew to her mouth as she tried to stifle the crying. "My life should never have been this way." Her tears fell so fiercely that they stung her unfeeling cheeks. Christine moved swiftly from her spot to Elodie. She pulled the young girl into her arms and cradled her.

"Elodie, what is it you're hiding from us all?"

"It is a plague." Her mouth worked against her mind and for once she was greatful. Beneath her terror she readily want to submit her story to Christine. She wanted her fate resigned. She wanted some sort of declaration that she was awful in spirit and mind. "It takes my mind so easily." Christine held her closely and listened intently, no longer pushing for details. "I sometimes wonder if I was born with this malady or if I gathered it from somewhere." She sounded near hysterical. She wondered briefly, oddly, if the children were frightened. "I can remember things so painfully." She went on as she began a steady rocking of her bones. "This feeling that I am not worth the life I have been granted. That I cannot be what everyone expects of me." She sucked in courage with air. "Mother told me I was unladylike and I hadn't a clue what it meant. Not that it mattered. I knew she was upset and I knew that I shouldn't be the way I was." Visions of her childhood seemed to fix themselves center stage and she shuddered to make them leave. "I tried my best to be what she wanted but it was never enough. I still did things so _unladylike_. I still wanted things I wasn't supposed to have. I wanted fresh air and I wanted to run. I wanted to get dirty like the boys in the manor next to us. She had papa send me to a school.

"And it was so wonderful at first. Even though I could never get anything right I didn't feel judged. I tried and tried and my best was offered and that was fine. At least they said." She stopped abruptly. Terrified she were going to crack open, she gathered her hands to her sides as if to hold herself in.

"What happened?" Christine's voice sounded slightly distraught.

"There was a change of head." She offered slowly, keeping her arms wrapped tightly around her frame. "They did a 'complete overhaul of a dissatisfactory situation.'" She quoted as she remembered the letter her mother had read to her during holidays. "It seemed that I could still do nothing right but this time it meant I was worth nothing. Every answer I got wrong and every movement I made was unsatisfactory." She disliked the word, unsatisfactory, but they had said it so often it seemed appropriate to use it now. "I knew I could never amount to anything unless I devoted myself fully." She nodded as she closed her eyes. "I started to devote every ounce of energy possible to studying and creating this new person. I wanted them to like me. I wanted their praise." Her voice was squeaking and she felt as if the story would completely release. She would be this ephemeral being floating through space, watching. She didn't want to react any longer. She only wanted to watch all of the others. It was easier that way. "Yet it wasn't good enough. I spent too much time chatting, I spent too much time eating. I was so selfish with everything and I was so willing to accept more than what I deserved."

_She_ told me that I was a fat slob of a spoled girl. I was a disgrace." She spat as she remembered the headmistress with the cruel voice and uncaring eyes. "So I stopped eating. It pleased me more than I would have thought." She admitted. "I am sure it pleased me more then it pleased her. But I don't care. I had found the secret, I thought." Her mouth felt like rubber as she kept going. "I finally felt like I was _**trying**_ to be good enough. No one could tell me otherwise. I was trying, goddman it!" She shook, unaware that Christine still held on. "And I started to look ladylike." She said with delirious delgiht. "I started to act it too. I could hardly do the things I used to. It was easier to sit and study. It's what we all wanted. But I didn't realize I would start hearing that other voice so much more. At first it had been small, like my own thoughts. Just little bits of reminders that I _wasn't trying hard enough._ But it got so loud that I could hardly stand it. I kept trying and trying to be what everyone wanted and they all looked on me with disgust. They made faces behind my back and said awful things about my body. I don't know what but I know they talked. They always fell silent when I entered a room.

"And no matter how hard I tried no one was ever happy with the result. The professors or my friends or my family. I wasn't and neither was the voice. It got so loud. I could hardly listen to anything else at all. It was telling me all of these things I didn't want to hear. It was telling me I was only good for a quick scandal. I had never been anything more than that. So one night I decided I would be a quick scandal and I would go out flying." She stopped and looked to Christine. The older woman stared at her with some level of uncertainty. "It's alright." Her calmness surprised them both. "I'm alright." She looked down at her thin body and grimaced. "I climbed the balcony statue. I wanted to jump. I had every intention but they found me and I was too weak to resist. They tied me to a bed and hurried my parents into the city. The announcement was made. I was insane. They had no idea what was wrong with me. I was ill, physically and mentally. And my parents had tried to get me to eat on holidays but I refused. I refused and they refused to show that it frustrated them. The school didn't know what to do. They said I made the other girls uncomfortable. I was always staring at them as they ate and I wandered about looking "forlorn," they said."

"I went without a fight because they drugged me. I spent two years in that place before I made my escape." She swallowed carefully as she remembered the beach she had found. She did not want to share the months that followed with Christine. She didn't feel as if she needed to. It seemed Erik had told her enough of it already. She remained silent as if waiting for Christine to speak of her conclusion.

Part of her realized, at the moment of Christine's vocal abscence, that perhaps no one could tell her the conclusion to her life. She nodded carefully as she finally released her sides. She waited for her body to crumble and for her spirit to make its escape. Nothing happened.

"Elodie." Christine eventually said. "You must eat." The words were final.

Elodie protested silently, refusing to acknowledge her words.

"What does all of this mean?" Christine asked suddenly.

"I imagined you would know." She admitted sheepishly as she fought the urge to crawl into the chair and slip into a long slumber. "I almost hoped you would know because no one has been able to tell me."

Christine shook her head. "Is Erik aware?" Her voice trailed off in a question.

"I am not sure what he knows." She said dumbly. "He is the one who found me. He must have some inkling that there is, indeed, something wrong with me. What he knows for sure I cannot say." Her voice was raspy with unsaid emotion. "I am sure it no longer matters what he knows. I've called the end of what little was between us."

She turned to see Christine's large, water-filled eyes. Elodie felt her heart breaking the last bonds. She felt as if she would die if there came a time where he was mentioned again. She could not handle the thought of him. Her unspoken realizations hurt as she realized she had bestowed herself upon him unfairly and without thought.

_You might as well, Elodie._ Her mind told her. _You might as well seal your own fate. Don't let another do it for you. _

"You know," She said with a sad smile as she looked at her friend. "I believe I never told him that I was completely myself when near him. All of the good and the bad. I put it on display. I wanted Erik to save me." She whispered. "I wanted him to be the sort of mythical creature who could."

* * *

**A/N: **So I have to say I have this bad feeling that this might not end the way I intended it to. As it turns out, the characters seem willing to disobey my good intentions. I guess it would make life to easy if I forced my desires upon the story. We'll see though. I'm still unsure. Also, I feel it is finally time to make it clear what all of the drama is about. I hope by the end of this chapter Elodie's peculiar problems are fully revealed. I hope that I have made it clear what exactly she suffers from. As such, I would like to say that a lot of the drama that has ensues is part of the disease which she suffers from. The flying off of the handle and being a completely idiotic ball of fierce determination to keep secrets to ones' self are part of the eating disorder. This is not something I write about lightly. I mean every word I write and I know, from experience and individual research, what the consequences of these disorder truly are like. I hope I have not driven some of you quite made with frustration. Actually, I hope I have. All of the back and forth of one's thoughts is something that happens regularly to eating disordered individuals and I feel that people should know it's not a situation solved as easily as "eating a sandwich."

Woo, heavy stuff over. Erik will make his return in a few chapters, I am sure of it. So, if anything, hold out for him!


	36. Chapter 36: Almost

**Author's Note: I've been incredibly stuck with this for an incredibly long time. I'm thinking of rewriting a lot of the chapters and trying to figure out where I got stuck. As it stands, I'm not sure I can end this the way I planned. I'm sorry it's been so terribly long since I've updated. It's not that I've forgotten this story at all. I think about it nearly every day. I just am not sure where to go from here. So, for now, this might be the final chapter. There are no guarantees, however! Thank you all for continuing to read and for sticking around for such a long haul. I adore you.**

Chapter 36: Almost

Standing alone, perched dangerously on the precipice of the rocky shore, he waited. His eyes were mostly unfocused. His mind was mostly free of thought. All that mattered at the moment was the rushing ocean breeze hitting against his bare face, the sweeping crash of wave upon wave hitting the sand, the feel of salty whispers of drifting sea mist lingering on his ruined face.

Time did not matter. It would never matter if he did not allow it too. In fact, he was fairly certain that, if he was able to withstand the pressure and torment, nothing would ever matter again. His past was nothing now. He did not feel anything. His life before the Opera Populaire did not matter. Nor did his dangerous dance with Christine. The years that had passed between those days and this were intermittently long. It was easy, now, to lose sight of it all. Least of all, he was certain, Elodie would not matter. Not for any real fault, simply because he could not bear to think of her. She was some strange creature he could not comprehend, some tormented soul wreaking havoc on herself and the world around her. Her destruction was inevitable and he could not be there to witness it. He was no savior.

Somewhere, far away, he knew that she would be sitting in a high-backed chair. Her tiny hands would be clasped in her lap and a sickly smile would be plastered across her gaunt face. She would look like a deaths head and act like the proper lady of society that she was meant to be. Her tainted hopes would parish as she delivered lines and expectations to demanding ears. She would die in that world and he would die in his own. It was the un-twistable path of fate.

Perhaps at one point it had been possible that they could have created some sort of solitary world, hidden from prying eyes and hated looks. They might have been able to cast aside fictitious characters, egos and forced personas to reveal the very core of their souls. They might have been able to be happy. Erik brought a trembling hand to his face and ran a hand over his eyes. He swallowed hard, his throat aching with a despicable wail.

Such possibilities had passed with the blink of an eye. Neither had realized and neither had tried to grab out for it. Now they were far too removed. She had shown herself prey to her world, unwilling to indulge herself in the simplest of acts, being free. He, too, may have been guilty of a similar crime but he had always known his life was meant to be lonely, barren of company and love.

He thought back to that night, so long ago, when he had spotted her impossible skeletal figure testing out the boundaries of earth and water. He vividly remembered her falling form crashing into the beach. He recalled the impossible feeling that her body and soul were only further devastated to learn that she had to keep on living. He had known then, surely, that she was a fragile, broken thing, striving to be released from a life of pain.

He closed his eyes and threw his head back, letting the climbing moon embrace his scarred features. The image of her twinkling eyes as she smiled in her slowly recovering face, with slightly colored cheeks that had been sunken not too long before. He could almost hear her reciting a sonnet in the rushes of water and wind; hear her trembling voice declaring that she loved him. He could feel the agony that had coursed through him when he was certain she had died. There would be no escape of Elodie.

The devastation of her life would be forever pressed into his unconsciousness.


	37. Chapter 37: Accidental Ghosts

Chapter 37: Accidental Ghosts

"_They were gone, without a word, snapped out, made accidental, isolated like ghosts from our pity."_

_-F. Scot Fitzgerald_

**Date Unknown**

The breeze of the ocean bustled excitedly around her figure. It mingled lovingly with her fingers, playing games with her flesh. She stood unmoved by its suggestions. Her eyes stared blankly out at the wavering water, flowing in and out like her thoughts. All around her the world seemed stuck in that perpetual motion, in and out. Everyone got so far, so close to what they wanted, only to be swept back out into their own miseries and misunderstandings.

_What is it they say about steps forward and back?_ She wondered, waiting patiently for the voice to reply. It didn't, leaving her alone when she most needed comfort. Always the cruel inner-self, she realized.

Behind her stood a little village under the shadow of a house for mad people. In front of her stood the open expanse of the unknowable. Back and forth, in and out. She splayed her palms upward, giving them to the sky as if they would drop answers into her waiting hands. Desperation kept her from flinging nervous eyes to the sides. The right, the left, whatever waited there would not help her. Had she come to the conclusion that there would be no help from the outside? No one could simply pluck her out of herself, even if they wanted to.

Her hands fell to her sides limply and she closed her eyes against the scenes around her.

"Are you here?" She asked as she swayed in the air. Perched in the air, on the overhanging piece of land above the vast stretch of beach, stood a house. She knew it was there, though it could be entirely abandoned. "Are you here?" She repeated, her voice trembling dangerously. "I can feel you with me. Always." She whispered into the night.

Unbidden, tears started to cascade down the cool flesh of her checks. She wrapped her arms about her and sobbed into the open, empty spaces. Paris hung in her mind like a nasty rumor, a diseased growth. Had she been able to flee the mere memories of her own mistakes she would have been standing somewhere else now. It had not taken her long to learn that she could not escape her problems by running away. It had never worked before and that had been under much less dire circumstances.

Elodie let a wail float from her vocal chords and drift away across the waves. Like pieces of herself leaving her body, they disappeared with time and distance. "I'm so sorry." She sobbed as she forced herself to look at the moonlit world around her. "What I was, what I have been, isn't quite real. I never tried very hard to overcome that barrier, to be something worthwhile. How did you find me that night? In the moonlight? Like a skeleton on parade, making her way tediously, like a fledging sea turtle, to the edge of land and water. I was ready to cast off, disappear beneath murky depths that continue for miles beneath swimming feet. I was ready to give up. I'm sorry to have forced your involvement. I wish that you would forgive me. Erik." His name came out choked and disappointed, as if she knew he would never hear her words.

Had she ever truly cared for him, the masked man she had relied upon so heavily to escape in the beginning? Even now, what did she know of him?

Her head shook furiously as she tried to clear the memories, setting him free from her tangled mess of life. It would be better this way. They could both journey on with their solitary fate without a brief thought to the other. Even as she thought it to herself she knew she was lying.


	38. Chapter 38: Butterfly of the Night

**A/N: **So I've written another chapter. I can feel this story calling me back. I think I may be ready to continue with this. In fact, I've already started another chapter. It may be a bit slow in coming out as I still have a month of class left but stick around. I also just want to say that I really appreciate each and every review I've gotten on this story. I've written one other Phantom story and I got very attached to it. I have to admit that I've grown much more connected to this story. All of the feedback and the kind words have only helped me bond more strongly with these characters. This chapter has only been edited once and so I hope nothing is too out of place (namely, I'm hoping I've fixed all the typos and odd sentences).

I know, I know. Enough already. On with the story!

* * *

Chapter 38: Butterfly of the Night

"_Take a look at my body, look at my hands_

_There's so much here that I don't understand."_

_-Natalie Merchant, "My Skin"_

**Elodie**

Her breath came in ragged, heart-wrenching unevenness. There were no thoughts in her heart for any other soul. If there happened to be patrons of this shabby inn that were unfortunate enough to be in the rooms beside hers she didn't care. She had stopped caring. All that remained was hollowness, a pit that never felt full nor empty. It was just a pit and that was all that could be said about it.

Her tear-stained cheeks turned toward the moonlit window. With uncertain thoughts, she tried to remember anything but the path to that lonely house on the cliff-side. She thought of the train ride back to Paris in the morning. It was a dull and boring thought. She tried to focus on attending her parents' garden party at the end of the week. Still her brain wandered.

It was with a dreadful resolution that she pushed herself upward and sighed. There could be no harm in seeing, she thought inwardly as she bent down to retrieve her shoes. Logically, the place would be abandoned or, at the very least, occupied by some stranger. Erik would not be there, this much she felt she knew. There was ample proof that he disliked memories and Christine swore that he would miss her.

"He won't be there." She assured the empty room as she nicked her light cloak off of a chair and slipped out of the door.

The walk was long, much longer than she would have thought. After a while the path grew rocky and uneven. Bits of grass grew over it in places leaving one hopping from dirt patch to dirt patch. As the cottage grew larger in her eyes she noted that dark interiors. It appeared there were no lights on.

She paused to try to peer into the darkened kitchen but it was of no use. Her boots fought the overgrown weeds as she struggled to the front door. It was only then that her breath caught in her throat. A hand fluttered to her chest as if to calm her but each attempt to bring air into her lungs resulted in a strangled noise. The panic that had remained dormant until this moment was threatening to suffocate her.

She knelt before the door, squeezing her eyes closed and trying desperately to focus on anything but the lack of oxygen going in and out of her body.

_Come on, Elodie_. She thought miserably. _No one is even here, you daft ninny_. Slowly the sound of the ocean waves came back, the feel of breeze whispered against her flesh. She peeled her eyes open to stare at the threshold once more. Her fingers gripped the material from her skirts. Shakily, she rose once more and pressed a palm on the center of the salt-worn door.

It hadn't occurred to her to knock. The late hour hardly seemed a reason for her to consider such a thing. So sure was she that the house lay abandoned that she felt rather courageous and fool-hardy. In any case, the doorknob turned easily. The creak of the hinges pricked her ears. "Hello?" She called softly as she took a first step into the house, her heels clicking on the wooden floor.

* * *

_**Erik**_

He hadn't been asleep when he heard the front door creak open. For a moment he thought he had forgot to shut it properly. This was quickly replaced with the realization that he hadn't ventured outside in days, having remained cooped up in the cottage. He looked carefully past the kitchen entrance to the front room. Sure enough, the door had fallen open, the starry sky spilling onto his floor. The breath caught in his throat as he stealthily moved into the front room.

In the far corner, kneeling down by the unused lounge was a feminine form. The woman clearly could not see him and he took advantage of it to silently slide past her. Knowing it should upset him that someone had let themselves into his home, he found he didn't have the heart to care. So long as she didn't find him, he thought as he quietly shut the door to his bedroom.

The sound of the woman moving drifted through the wooden barrier. "Hello?" She called meekly. A frown formed on his lips as he turned as if he meant to exit the room, to get a good look at her. The oddity of the situation suddenly startled him. In the most unreasonable hour possible, a woman had walked, possibly from the village, to this barely visible cottage and entered without knowing if anyone was inside. He scowled as he thought of all the possible foolish teenage girls. A flicker of an image of an escaped inmate of the asylum jumped before his mind before he shoved it down with force. Such things raised painful remembrances.

Her footsteps were drawing nearer. He pushed his entire weight against the door and slid down to the floor. Above his head the doorknob turned. The woman tried to push her way in. "Hello?" The tremor in that voice was familiar. "Is anyone in there?" She sounded terrified yet she tried to push her way in again. His heart started to beat frantically as he tried to remember her voice. When had he forgotten the gentle melodies of her natural speech? Shaky hands were raised to his burning face. The flesh of each cheek was scalding and wet. It took great effort to sob silently but he managed, rather dreading the consequences of a much louder expression.

"Erik?"

The beating of his heart stopped for a moment. It felt like how he had always imagined death would feel. The color drained from his face easily as his head drew to its natural position. It wouldn't be possible, he knew that, but it had sounded like his name.

"Erik?"

Again, it pushed its way through the door. It was muffled but he was almost certain the woman on the other side was calling to him. It would be incredibly easy to stand and throw the door open. The sort of action it would take would be miniscule. If only he could muster the courage he might have. Instead he remained on the ground, frozen in a mixture of panic and confusion.

The woman was certainly not who he wanted her to be. The illogical desire of his heart was warping all reality. Elodie would not be on the other side of that door.

Her heels clicked away, allowing him to breathe properly once more. He did not fully move until he heard the front door close with a snap.

* * *

_**Elodie**_

Though it deeply bothered her that she had not been able to get into his bedroom, she brushed it aside and forced herself to move through the rough yard. Perhaps something had fallen in front of the door, she mused as she stopped long enough to rip her skirts from a determined nettle brush. The rest of the house looked unused. There was no reason to suspect that any other living soul resided in the cottage-except for the occasional rodent.

When she finally made her way to the path back to the village she paused once more. Her hands were frozen and purple in the moonlight. Shakily, she pulled her gloves out of a pocket and shoved them forcefully down the length of her fingers and palm. Her teeth chewed anxiously on her lower lip.

The urge to cast a backward glance was overpowering. Instinct was often something she resisted fully, believing her strength could always win out. Yet she had never been one to deny curiosity and as she remained unmoving, the urge turned into a curiosity. She noted that one didn't get such urges for the sake of them. Often there was a reason hiding behind them.

She turned carefully, prepared for disappointment.

Her eyes widened with a fear for her sanity. Her lips trembled fiercely. There, in the strong light of a full moon, was a figure. One she knew well. The pale of his shirt glowed in the light, his face equally bright. Her eyes raked the scope of his broad shoulders, of his unmasked face. Her heart quickly became lodged in her throat. Nearly unable to control a sob, she felt the tears preparing for a journey downward.

She remained unmoving. The fear that such a thing would banish this illusion forced her to stand perfectly still. The only thing moving her was the growing wind, which played with her cloak and her hair. If she moved, she thought, she would realize her folly. It was with a grave certainty that she concluded that seeing her mistake would break her heart surer than if she hadn't seen him at all. Part of her brain screamed out at her to run toward him, to trap him before he moved away. She doubted, at this point, her limbs would function at all. Too terrified was she of shattering the moment.

* * *

_**Erik**_

He had pushed his way out of the cottage with a growing urgency to catch one last glimpse of this intruder. The night sky would offer a bit of help. He nearly tripped when he took his first step into the yard and he inwardly cursed as he freed himself from the overgrown flora. Sure enough he could see her as he moved along the side wall of the cottage. She had nearly reached that untended path when she stopped.

His muscles froze instantly, responding to her. She was too far away for him to properly judge her identity. If only she would turn around, he thought aggressively. The thought fell upon him again and again as if thinking it enough would force it to happen. His lips parted against his will, prepared to call after her if she continued on.

The last bit of his sanity seemed ready to depart. There would be no caution now, he realized as a gentle sweat of nervousness broke out across his back and chest. He had rushed out, he had stopped in clear view, and he had remained unmasked. If this creature before him did indeed turn around, there would be no going back.

His heart stopped again as it had in his room when he noticed her shifting in his direction.

The pale of her face glistened dangerously like a star. Even at this distance he could trace every curve, every turn. He knew the contours of this face well. She froze like a startled deer, her large eyes widened beyond their capacity. Suddenly everything about his being ceased to matter. The only reason to exist would be to watch her.

Did she know she was trembling? Her body swayed in the wind, as if she would be carried away. If she did get carried away, he decided, he would chase her. Even if she were not real, he would chase her.

Her hands were clutching each other as if she could save herself from some untimely fate. Her lower lip disappeared into her mouth as she bit it noticeably. What would she be seeing?

It was then, after realizing that she was in fact seeing him, that his heart spluttered back into movement. It increased rapidly as he noted the air pressing against his bare face. He suddenly needed action. One of them needed to move, to make that decision. Positive it wouldn't be him, he remained stark still.

Praying had never worked before but he now did so fervently in the hopes of causing some change, in moving her in some way. He could not be the first to move. Her name was playing on his lips, threatening to tumble out. If only she would move, he thought anxiously.

* * *

_**Elodie**_

It was an odd thing to remember but it pressed down on her brain, smothering all thought. It had been so long ago. Of all the nights she could remember this one bit through the rest. The waking in the middle of the night had startled, just as standing in the moonlight now frightened her.

She had remained still for a moment, merely listening to the indistinct sounds that fought with the foggy sleep clouding her mind. Slowly, it had dawned on her that someone was sobbing. Not just someone. Erik remained removed from her, on the other side of a wooden door. He was crying. It was a confusing moment as she tried to align this fact with the image of Erik she had indulged in so drastically.

Her heart ached painfully as his sobs called her, pulled her from the bed. She had gone to him, sensing his need of something. Her attempts to comfort him had seemed rather dull but he had eventually accepted her close proximity. Her voice echoed now in the space between them.

"_I starve myself. I don't know why._" A deep yearning stole over her. Never had she wanted to be understood to the degree she wanted to be now. Beside her, Erik remained unmoving and silent.

Elodie blinked, trying to keep past and present separate.

Her thin hand moved off of his powerful knee. She felt the need to flee, her attempts being rather pointless.

She closed her eyes against the sight of Erik so far from her.

"_I love a woman who will not have me." _ His deep voice sounded clearly in her head. She could never forget that voice, though she had tried in the many months that had passed since she had last seen him. Her memories were crisp. _"I offered her my world, my heart, and my soul. It was not much, I knew, but my love was strong_." He had been speaking of Christine.

It seemed so long ago. The events that had passed since that night and this were insurmountable. A sorrow smothered her until she opened her eyes. He still stood, looking back at her. There was no use pretending that she could overcome it, overcome a lifetime of painful memories. There was no use pretending she could be anything different than what she was. In her heart, she knew that he must know that too.

Why had she come here? The question bubbled to the forefront of her frenzied thoughts. It had been out a foolish desire to fix a fracture, to repair something irreparable. She could not bridge the gap between them. Even now, she could not force herself into action. She could not cross the hurtles that would allow her to touch him again, to feel his powerful heart beating. She knew if she tried she would fall, she would continue falling until he grew tired of waiting. Had she come here merely to freshen the pain in his eyes, a pain so palpable that she could feel it?

The tears were falling freely now.

"I'm sorry, Erik." She whispered. He finally shifted, clearly having heard her attempt at speech. "I'm sorry for everything, Erik." She called louder, feeling a strength that had hidden from her for so long. The apology seemed to soothe her consciousness. She breathed in the air, feeling the freedom mingle with the salt. He made to step forward. "I wish I had known how to say that much sooner." She called as if to stop his steps. If he came to her she would break. If his body tried to recover hers, she would revert back.

She could not go back. Going back had caused too much pain. She had been witness to this before. There was a certainty in her decision as she remembered the hurt in his eyes, the desperation she had once seen when he had cried over Christine. She could not bear to think of him wasting such precious things on her. "I never meant to hurt you." She called again, her tongue flowing freely. "I hope you believe that."

With trembling limbs, Elodie did the first thing she had ever been truly proud of. She turned and started to walk away.


	39. Chapter 39: A Simple Moment

Chapter 39: A Simple Moment

_**Erik**_

Her words were still drifting over him. The power of such simple speech could almost be devastating beyond belief. Her figure was moving after such a long standoff but he couldn't help feeling quickening despair that she was going in the wrong direction. Fists clenched, holding onto air.

Of all of the possible scenarios that had played through his tired mind, this had not been one of them. Even now he tried to grasp it clearly but it merely slipped through all of the cracks of his hazy thoughts. Elodie was leaving, vanishing down the path. Soon she would be out of sight. Moments were passing and still he stood as if struck dumb. No matter how fiercely he berated himself, his being was too slow to react.

"Wait." He croaked, knowing she could not hear his words. "Come back." His voice was cracking now. "Come back."

Part of him knew she would not come back. Already, she had proven her commitment to her decision; she was walking away. Something broke further inside of Erik's chest. He felt as if he were drowning. Willing himself to move resulted in the buckling of his knees. How foolish he had been to think that his heartache over Christine had been enough to destroy him. All he could do now was fall over. He could die, he thought.

His mind whirred pathetically, striving for something firm to hold onto as he sobbed openly into his hands. Helplessness had never hit him before. He didn't know how to survive this feeling of desolation that grew blacker with every passing second.

His head drew up as he tried to glimpse her one more time. She had vanished.

_No,_ he shouted inwardly. Elodie could not just walk away. She could not make that choice for them both. Before this moment he had thought he would be able to walk away. Already, he had tried escaping those constant thoughts of her. Thoughts so heavy he grew drunk on the memories. He knew now that he could not walk away. He could not forget so easily.

It was this alone that propelled him to his feet. Surely, if he could not do so, she could not either. Her decision to walk away did not stop him from following her. Determination offered strength as he dashed after her.

_**Elodie**_

Once she wound around the corner, disappeared from his sight, she stopped to catch her breath. Each shuddering intake felt like fire. Tears pressed thickly against her eyes, causing chaos with her steps. She weaved now in the air as if she were a stalk of grass.

The words were easy. Continuing to walk seemed to be the challenge. She managed a few more steps before she needed to stop again. Her blurry eyes looked out toward the beach. Lonesome in its barrenness, she felt a sudden kinship. A night of revelations, it occurred to her. The reason she had always been drawn to the mysterious power of the ocean now made sense. It was so deep yet so empty. It tried desperately to make contact, brushing up against the earth. Sometimes these brief moments of contact were loving, often they were furious. Always, the desired land eluded the ocean.

She was the ocean. Her desperation for contact had always resulted in violence, in annoyance, in rejection as she had slipped off their surfaces and back into herself.

A terrifying sob exploded from her throat and she knew she could not go on. Perhaps she could manage to get to the beach or, if she tried, the inn, but the grander scope of things assured her that it didn't matter. She would never be able to hold on.

Her feet now tripped over the uneven dirt path. She nearly hurled herself into the ground as she tried to stumble her way onward. Her shaking arms wiped tears onto the sleeves of her dress. With each movement of her limbs, the hollowness grew deeper.

Finally, as the village came back into sight, she stopped. She tried to convince herself that all she needed was a rest. She fell to her knees and buried her face in her thin, gloved hands. Each sob shook her entire body. That pit was widening, ripping pieces of her. Pain had set in.

When she sucked in air, she tried to quell the cries. The racket she was making would draw attention and she refused to be seen like this, so close to slipping away. Tears were still spilling down her now cold cheeks.

Somewhere near her, footsteps sounded. Terror flitted through her heart as she imagined a pair of children peaking from some hidden place of safety, watching this strange scene. She flew to her feet, nearly losing consciousness in the process. Her first step was stopped by a pair of firm hands on her shoulders.

_**Erik**_

Everything within his being urged to begin a long-winded tirade about her selfishness. Words would be easy at the moment, especially given his whirling emotions. As he turned her about, his heart softened. Her face was tear-covered. Her form shook violently. His anger, his pain, was disintegrating with each wet drop that escaped her eyes.

She looked up at him with a look of despair. This was all he had needed. It was enough to know it had hurt her to walk away. Clearly, she had only meant to free him. He didn't expect her to know that he didn't want to give her up. He wasn't sure he could ever convince her of this.

Instead of trying to articulate the impossible to unwilling ears, he merely folded her into his arms.


	40. Chapter 40: Glimmers of Hope and Change

**A/N: I'm not terribly pleased with this chapter but it may just be my critical reading eye. I've edited it three times and I've also read it about six times. Any thoughts? In other news, I want to assure you all that I'm not abandoning this story. The thought was pretty persistent but I've gotten past it. I'm not sure how long this will last but I promise to continue until I reach the true ending of this story. Thank you all so much for reading!**

**I also want to say that I've already started planning my next Phantom story and am pleased with its progress. This will be a summer of writing so, if you want, keep an eye out for my stuff! I also have been reading some published Phantom stories. I've just ordered Susan Kay's _Phantom_ and hope it lives up to reviews. Until next time. **

Chapter 40: Glimmers of Hope and Change

**_Elodie_**

"Are you well enough to walk?" Erik's distinct voice cut through the harrying din in her ears. She cautioned a glance up from his chest. Unmasked, he looked down on her. A noticeable concern riddled the shadows splayed across his face. It dawned on her that their intimate grasp on another allowed him to feel her spindly figure. Reluctantly, she broke free of his arms.

"Yes." She affirmed as she held out a surprisingly steady hand. When Erik hesitated, she knew he was still uncertain. It was a swift decision as she knew it would be far easier her for her to enact the motions. She reached out and captured his hand. Entwining her fingers through his felt justifiable and so she did not deny either of them that privilege.

After a prolonged moment in which he gazed down at their hands, they both stepped forward. Their journey was mostly silent and though she thought of asking where they were going, she didn't. It was an unnecessary question and it only occurred to her because her want of sound had compelled the urge for noise. Such a thing was unruly and rather worthless, she realized, as she remembered how silence with Erik had once been normal, if not easy.

Eventually, their feet traversed downward, careening on a slight incline before petering out at a mixture of sparse weeds and a sandy expanse. Elodie tugged on his hand, amazed when his calm face turned to her. "Can we sit?" She asked. He nodded in reply. "Can we sit by the shore?" She watched keenly as he opened his mouth, as if to object, before merely nodding.

This time, she took charge, leading the way forward. Once she had settled on an appropriate spot, she tugged on his arm before sitting. He went down beside her with the graceful ease that seemed to define his every action.

Each remained quite still while staring out at the ocean. The moon lit bright patches of lively water. Elodie wondered what it would look like from beneath.

"Why did you come?" He asked, his voice cutting through her thoughts again. Her piercing gaze shifted to his profile. Even in dim light, she could judge his struggle to remain indifferent. The setting of his jaw, the way his eyes didn't really look out at the scene, they told her that he was attempting to remain in control. Of what she wasn't sure. His temper, she thought casually before speaking.

"I'd hoped-" Her words stopped abruptly. She thanked God that her subconscious had had so much practice censoring her. Had she realized she was about to contradict everything she had said mere moment's ago, she might not have said anything at all. Now, her words faded into the wind, and she was afraid to go forward.

"Did you come to torment me?" Elodie tried not to focus on the tone of his voice which remained a complex mystery.

"No." She denied as she forced herself to look away.

"Did you come to torment yourself?"

"I-" She faltered. "I'd hoped I could find you." When he didn't respond, she plowed forward so as not to grow timid. "I'd hoped I could make things right. I hadn't planned to say what I did. I really hadn't thought that far ahead." As she tried to explain herself she removed her gloves and dug her fingers into the sand. Each tiny grain felt welcoming as it cascaded across the surface of exposed flesh. "That's not to say I'm not sorry. I am, Erik. I'm terribly sorry." Still, he remained unmoving beside her. With each passing second, she grew calm with his lack of response. He was clearly listening. Perhaps she could muddle through until she found the right words to say. "I owe you so much more. If you would allow me, I'll tell you everything. I'll tell you anything you wish to know."

From her peripheral she saw a quick movement that she took for a nod. A sigh parted her lips. Her eyes closed.

"I've come to learn a lot since we parted ways. These past twelve months have been rather unbearable, I must confess. It's not pleasant looking inward. I'm afraid I'm not a very endearing person. I am a selfish person. I've tried everything to avoid blame. I'm a master of diverting attention. Christine has told me this is highly unfavorable. I must say I'm starting to agree. It makes it hard to know when I should say certain things. It increases the lack of trust I have in myself. As I've already told her and-" Here she fell silent. Inwardly, she cursed herself with ferocity. Mentioning Alexander Broucher at a time like this would only cause a larger rift between them. "I believe you deserve the truth. Perhaps more than anyone I've told as of yet." She told Erik in an attempt to regain her confidence.

As she let the words tumble out, her tale spilling into his ears, she decided this was easier than she had thought it would be. She reminded him of all she had once shared with him, though part of her knew he had not forgotten. When she moved on to give him the bits of her life that had remained shaded, she spared nothing. As she mentioned the suicide attempt at the boarding school, she could not look at him. When she came to her constant hunger, she would just as soon never lift her head again. The words spilled out, clinging to their bodies before subtle breezes knocked them loose. "I'm ashamed to admit that I wanted you to be the person who would save me. I demanded so much of you and I never gave anything in return. I regret this most of all."

The finality of the end of her story signified the appropriate place for his reaction. She waited as patiently as she knew how. "What have you been doing?" He asked after a long moment.

Elodie could feel the hesitation creeping into her mind, begging to create some lie specifically for his ears. "I spent some time in England." She mused, remembering the short time she had lived with her aunt. "I've since resumed work at Alexander's theater. For the past few months, I've been employed there."

"I see."

"No, you don't." She assured him boldly. "As much as I care for Alexander, I only care for him as a dear friend. He knows this."

"If I turned you away this moment, would you return to him?" Erik asked. She could sense the anger in his voice.

"No." She stated adamantly. "I have my own lodgings in Paris." The man beside her fell into quiet thought. She tried to quell the rush of worry about her sudden honesty. There was nothing wrong with delayed response. She repeated this in her head for a while. "Erik?" She posed after what felt like an eternity.

"You never loved me." He declared with nonchalance. Elodie's eyes immediately widened with astounded displeasure. She was grateful for the dark cover of night otherwise she might have looked positively outraged at his words. Any such aggressive expression did not suit her well, internally or otherwise.

"How-"

"You loved an idea. You said as much yourself." He cut through her argument. "You haven't a clue who I truly am."

"Is that so?" The tinge of aggression was growing thicker. "You never loved me either, I'm afraid. All those hushed words with Christine were for naught. I imagine you cared for me like you would an injured animal. Am I correct?" She had to snap her mouth shut before she carried herself away.

When she turned to catch a glimpse of his profile she was, instead, confronted with an intense gaze from his dark eyes. His face expressed all of his discontent. His full lips turned down, his brows furrowed. Horrified even as it happened, a laugh bubbled from her throat. Elodie watched with helpless mirth as Erik's eyes grew indignant.

"Erik." She exclaimed in an attempt to catch her breath. "What I love is not an idea." She was aware that a broad grin was fighting to take over her normally stoic face. It was irksome she could not find a plausible reason to deny herself such a simple thing. "It was the care with which you treated me. A care that did not spare me your anger or your wry comments. Or your tears. When we first met I was intimidated by your air. There is not a doubt in my mind that you possess something magical, but it was not this that made me fall in love with you. I fell in love with the man I can see not the myth you try to present."

"What are you talking about?" He demanded with annoyance.

"I once claimed that you had never known me. Do you remember?" A bitter nod answered her. "That was entirely a lie." She laughed again. "My glorious attempts at evasion were successful, I presume? Erik, in those months alone, before the world intruded, I was wholly myself. Good and bad. Do you want to know why?" She asked though she had no intention of waiting for his response. "In that asylum I had given up pretense. At the time, I hadn't the strength to play the charade. Besides, I imagined you didn't much care who I was. It was rather pleasant being free to express myself in ways I hadn't in years." Her grin persisted. All misgivings were disappearing as she hinted at how much those days had really meant to her. "Being secluded gave me that benefit. When my parents removed me to our estate I lost everything. I lost my memories, I lost myself. I think I've started to get it back."

"Elodie-" He began, sounding purely contradictive.

"Did I ever tell you that I've heard you sing?" She interrupted, in no mood for an argument. The lightheartedness that had started to seep through her blood felt unrestrained. For the first time in months, the other voice in her head had died down to indistinguishable mumblings "Do you still sing for her?"

**_Erik_**

Elodie had transformed before his eyes. If he tried hard enough, he would admit that, at the moment, she was behaving every bit the Elodie he had first known. Her incessant rambling held none of the accusation that he had experienced at their last eventful exchange. She appeared rather pleased, indulging with that knowing smile that simply alluded to the mischief brewing within. He was a little amazed to find such strong pieces of that woman before him. Though he told himself not to celebrate prematurely, he was relieved.

"Erik?" She asked suddenly, another question jumping from her mind to her tongue without much thought. "I have something to ask of you. Would you be willing to sing for me?"

Once more, he was unnerved by her words. Had he had the time to analyze the situation properly he might have concluded that she was merely jumping around to keep him engaged. She had hardly stopped her tirade of questions to allow him to answer. Instead of falling back on tired notions of her behavior, he tried to allow himself to believe that she was genuinely content to ask anything on a whim. Her rather childish grin spread all the way to her eyes, so he suspected it might be safe to allow her to continue.

Suddenly, as if to damper his amazement, a nagging thought pressed forth in his mind.

"Has Christine told you?"

"What exactly was she supposed to have told me?" She asked. Elodie shifted her body until she had turned away from the ocean and once more cast her gaze upon his figure.

"Would you like to hear my story?" He asked quickly before he could rediscover common sense. She had been honest in giving him the bits of her life that had remained unseen. His mind told him she deserved equal treatment and trust.

"Only if you sing it." She quipped, that damned smile still plastered on her face.

He hoisted himself to his feet as if preparing to desert her. Once he looked down, he was a bit pleased to see that Elodie clearly had no intention of following suit. "I warn you, this is not a pretty tale. You will not be smiling when we've reached the end."

"I haven't smiled in months. It' a miracle I've managed to maintain it as long as I have." She assured him. Her eyes twinkled in the moonlight. One could easily have mistaken her for a devilish nymph given her slender size and distractingly good humor. Even as she looked down at her hands, the dim glow of the night engulfed her actions, forcing an unworldly aura around her body. Watching her sent slight shivers cascading down his spine. "Thank you for indulging me." She said quietly. "I'm prepared to remain serious."

"Elodie, this is no comedy. I do not jest when I say you may be thoroughly uncomfortable by the end of this." He warned, determined to force her hand. Erik knew enough about himself to know that he desperately did not want to tell her his life's story. He might have even been selfish enough to try to force her back into sullen silence, the same behavior that upset him more than her prodding or distracting.

"Listen," She declared with gusto. "I am no stranger to demons. Why don't you allow me to decide how I feel? And please sit down. I feel as if you're about to leave and I doubt I can chase you."

"Would you try?" He asked without much thought

"Only if I thought you wanted me to."

He found he was content with her answer. More so than he was with his absurd question. With ease, he returned to his previous space on the ground beside her. For a moment she averted her gaze, as if unsure of where to place those intrusive eyes. His fingers found hers in the sand. Though they were certainly chilled, he could feel a bit of warmth that had returned to her hand.

He studied her, mesmerized, when she tilted her head curiously as she let her eyes fall upon him. Despite the terror welling up within his gut, he knew he would only be able to speak to her if she remained engaged. Her charming eyes would coax the story from him. It was the only way he would finish.

Her weak grasp tightened on his hand. Elodie offered a meek smile that reassured Erik's trepidation. On the beach not far from his seaside cottage, he began to tell Elodie his past. Her gaze remained attentive, even as his voice quavered at the beginning of his dreadful story. She remained patiently, her hand clasping his.


	41. Chapter 41: Satan's Satin Cloth

A/N: First and foremost, please forgive me for the intolerably long wait between updates. Life got in the way and inspiration ran dry. I cannot leave this story unfinished though so I have returned. Second, I will be revising all previous chapters. Feel free to reread if you get the alert and find yourself curious, but, be warned, not much is likely to change with the plot. Finally, I have taken liberties with this chapter. I have melded together a variety of stories to create a single compilation for Erik's life. Please bear that in mind while you read this chapter. Enjoy the continuation and thank you for the continued support!

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Chapter 41: Satan's Satin Cloth

_**Erik**_

His breath caught in his throat at first and he had to push it out with force; the words wanted to cling to his vocal chords but the time had long since passed and Elodie sat attentive. Her eyes still bright with wetness, she looked a glimmer with strength. He would borrow from her and make something of his pain. It was all she had asked and he had promised.

He cleared his throat and began:

_My mother was a prudish woman. How she ever managed to get with child astounds me, but she did, and found a husband, as I've discovered. In that precise order. Her part in my tale is short and unimportant, though, as bearer of life to what you see before you, she must have her say. I was born in the bitter month of January. It was a long delivery and I've been told I nearly killed my mother in my bid for existence. Alas, she survived to see what she bore into the world._

_She was a peasant, a daughter to a farmer in the borderlands. They are a meager people filled with superstition. There's a particular one that says that, should a woman with child crave any food, she must be careful where upon her body she touches. If, for example, she craves something she cannot have and touches her forehead, the child will bear a deformity there. If one is to believe such foolishness, my mother smothered her face every moment after receiving an urge for food beyond her reach. Perhaps if my deformities had been less she might have been able to claim fault and remain a mother. Unfortunately, as you have seen with your own eyes, this was not the case. So startled was the midwife that she dropped me. My mother, quite weak still, had no way to protest as the woman fled the house. My mother's husband, too, took one look at me and left. I've heard he never returned._

_When my mother finally saw me she must have a felt a dreadful fear and a swell of sickness for she put me outside of the farmhouse. I should have died. I did not and, if my mother's stories can be trusted, I didn't cease crying until she eventually brought me in. She kept me far from her for a long time. The midwife eventually developed the courage to return and see to it that I was either destroyed or fed. Bless their god-fearing souls, they could not murder an innocent no matter how devastatingly evil his appearance. My infancy was spent restrained from my mother and with little understanding as to why. When I began to walk my mother gathered her courage. She crafted a makeshift mask out of cheesecloth. It was the winter of my fourth year that she bundled me up and took me far away from the home to an encampment of Roma. There she left me._

_There I was found after three days, near frozen among the thinning edge of the forest. It was with these people that I grew until ten years of age. Wary of me though they were, I remained useful enough to bring in food for others. I had uncanny strength, unnatural wit. I didn't shy from work. I knew I unnerved many of the group and sought to make up for it. My deformities were not all that made them careful around me. It was easy for them to fashion new masks for me of discarded sacks; it was easy for them to pretend they did not know what lay behind the coarse fabrics. My ability to sway other children to do things they wouldn't normally partake in, unfortunately, was harder to ignore. _

_At eleven I was sold by a few of the men to another Roma, a man with business on his mind. Had I any inkling of the kindness of human beings, I was about to lose it. Don't fret, Elodie, I hadn't much faith left in people. _

_This man's clan had devised a way to make money through means of constructing a traveling circus. I'm sure you've not encountered them but have at least heard of them. The man would not have bought me were it not for my face, which my kind sellers shared during negotiations. It turned out that my face could make more money than any other asset. It was through this man's scheme that I was turned into a slave. _

_I was locked up like an animal. He would demand work of me, sweeping while chained to my cage. Food was little. I was given a mask when no audiences were present. It was a reprieve after the first show. I-I cannot—_

_It was through slow investigation that he found out about my musical abilities. I had little knowledge of them myself but the moment I was thrust a tarnished, old violin I set to work memorizing what little I could squeeze out of the others about music. It was my salvation. Though I could play hauntingly enough, my talent faired even better when coupled with my dreadful face. I was showcased across the countryside as The Devil's Child, a terrifying sight to see and hear. Beware the temptation of his music, it's evil snare knows no bounds!_

_I did not remain with them for more than five years before I won my freedom. I killed my master and absconded into the night while near the border of Spain. I traveled through Europe to the East without further tainting of my soul by crime. I worked aboard ships, played the pauper with my violin. Soon I found myself at the height of fancy with my music in Persia, of all places. I was willingly brought to the royal court._

_I spent the next fifteen years in favor in Persia. My music made many delirious. My mask, by this time finely crafted of kid's leather or imported silks, caused intrigue. Wary still they were of me. Most, in any case. I must confess, it is in Persia I learned skills of violence. More so than ever before I was able to tune my ability wreak havoc on the human body and mind. _

_I left, oh believe me how eagerly I left, when the regime shifted suddenly. I traversed Europe once more with riches, for Persia had given me a fine legacy. No longer could any guess how I had spent the early years of my life. I visited Germany, Russia, Egypt. I studied great texts, played on the finest instruments. I even dabbled in architecture. My mind is quick with most things and so it is easy to impress others, to get them to bend to my will. _

_In the end, after ten years of frivolous but solitary living, I found my way back to France. France. It is always this country. All I have told you of my mother was gathered at that point. She had died by this time. A weak heart, I'm told. Perhaps it was a remnant of her time spent with me. Perhaps she never quite recovered. I had no intention of staying in the countryside surrounded by my mother's ilk. It was to Paris that I went. _

Elodie muttered "Paris" audibly before shutting her eyes briefly. Erik knew she was awaiting Christine's entrance. The story thus far had been tame. He had spared her much of his sordid deeds in Persia. Much more of his life would remain a secret. He sensed that she was explicitly concerned with Paris, with Christine de Chagny, more than anything. He'd tried to waylay this section of his tale. No longer could it be forestalled.

"Shall I continue?" He asked cautiously, keeping an eye on her face for a sign of discomfort or apprehension.

"Yes, please." She said, turning her eyes on him.

He shifted slightly to hide her from direct view. It would be easier to continue, imagining anyone but Elodie:

_Paris, of course, was suitable for many things. It was not, however, very viable for solitude. At least until I discovered the wealth of space beneath the Opera Populaire. What more could I possible want? Music, beauty, safety, and all within once place. I lived quite amicably with the opera managers, though they would probably tell a different story. I coerced large sums of money from them, playing upon the superstitions of the theatre folk: the ballet dancers, the stage hand, the singers. You see, my lurking figure seemed much like a phantom, a ghost, to those who caught a glimpse of my cloak or saw a shimmer of my mask hitting light. _

_Much of my life has been influenced by the superstition of others. I decided it was about time to turn it to my advantage. Money was a paltry thing to these people. I also commandeered a theatre box for my own use. I found alluringly convenient to see productions. I managed to persuade a woman, a Madame Giry, to my side of the arrangement. She was, and is as far as I know, still a ballet instructor. Her daughter, Meg, a talented dancer. I lived this way for quite a few years in peace. Until one day I came to realize that Meg's closest confidante had a voice, a beautiful voice begging to be trained. She was as beautiful to me in that day as any creature I had ever seen. Though she had long been present among the company and the school I had never taken notice of her until I came across her singing a prayer to her beloved father in the chapel. She was Christine Daae, dancer in the corps de ballet at the time. _

_It was through deception that I was able to get close to her. I admit ashamedly that I used my ability to traverse the opera house without detection, as well as my keen talent in persuasion, to convince her that her tutor was an angel of music. I trained her well, brilliantly if you may permit my ego. I arranged her entrance onto the stage as a singer. _

_Certainly you have heard of all of that? Christine's rise? La Carlotta's fall? The exchange of the opera to two new managers, Moncharmin and Richard? I was responsible for the first two. The latter was an unfortunate occurrence. Those two turned out to be much harder to bend than Debienne and Poligny. Still, I succeeded in giving the stage to Christine. I succeeded in giving her light. Darkness as well, for I brought her underneath the opera house on more than one occasion. Seduction has been a word used amply, as well as kidnap. You may do with those what you will. Certainly the first can be attributed to my love for her and my persuasion. _

_I did not scent the final twist in the plot, however, and that would be our good friend Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny, at the time. I trust you know how that story ended. Now to the part you've been waiting for, and surely have guessed by this time. The disaster that lay ruin to the Opera Populaire. It was me. Elodie, forgive me, but it was._

_I cannot claim to have changed, only tempered some – though surely you may disagree. I was driven mad by the love Christine showed Raoul. I was embittered by my past, rebuked by my only chance for the future. I acted a madman and the murderer I am. I deigned to force an opera I had written upon the company, an act successful in that I was the Opera Ghost. I killed before while at the Opera Populaire and I would do so again without thought. My opera was staged. I took place. I entered the scene, kidnapped Christine, and brought the world down to my level. I cannot claim to know what happened above us, for I quickly forced her down into my home beneath the opera. I cannot claim to care what happened above us. Not for those suffering the fire or the crash of the magnificent chandelier. I had not a care for anyone but Christine and myself. _

_You must understand, I have told you all the horrors I can possibly bear. I can say no more on that matter. You have seen Christine's present existence. You can surely comprehend that her savior came in the end. I could have killed them both. I chose not to for the small act of mercy Christine showed me when she tried to spare Raoul's life. It was there that my story in Paris ends. I assure you, up until we met, I remained quite alone and at some formidable peace with my destiny on this small curve of a cove. Monster that I am, I never felt regret for any of my actions, save those that hurt Christine. _

_There I have told you the truth. Perhaps not everything, but enough for you to sense the scope of my soul. Do with me what you will. _


	42. Chapter 42: Happenstance in Hindrance

Chapter 42: Happenstance in Hindrance

_**Elodie**_

The silence following Erik's final words left her bereft. Though she could feel him beside her, a startling loneliness started to swallow her. To be truthful to herself, she admitted to being appalled at his crimes, which were far more numerous than she could have ever guessed. Another part, the one she chose to embrace wholly, felt such sorrow at the trials to which he had been put through. Excuses for murder were not pliable but she strived to make them so. For his sake, she tried furiously.

She sucked in breath, the intake rigid. Beside her, Erik shifted fearfully. Perhaps not to an unobservant eye, but his hasty movement to give her space told epics of his anxiety. Slowly, cautiously so as not to disarm him, she turned to stare at him. The careful composure of his face did not waver.

"You speak of it all in such an unaffected manner." She finally managed, her voice sounding cooler than she'd intended. "Have you felt remorse?" She shook her head despite herself. "You claim to feel sorrow over your actions toward Christine, but what of all the others?" His eyes widened noticeably, his lips drawing into a line. The muscles along his jaws protruded as he clenched his teeth together. She reached out with swiftness, her palm softly swiping his jawline. "Do not misunderstand me. I do not wish to sound accusatory." She breathed gently. "I do not wish you to feel I've changed in my feelings toward you." She bit her lip. "Still, I'd very much like an answer."

A long moment passed before he spoke. "I have only felt remorse for those other than Christine once." He replied monotonously.

Her mouth flew open, her lungs sucked in air sharply once more, and she promptly shut her lips together. They quivered as she tried to quell tears. "Only the once?" She whispered. He nodded, looking out at the ocean. Elodie did not know how to respond. Here he had made it perfectly clear that his conscience was selective. How was she to cope with that?

"It was because of you." He spoke gruffly. "You made me feel remorse." It sounded a little too full of blame for her taste but she offered a weak smile. "It was not a pleasant feeling and I have since tried not to dwell on it." He ground out, remembering, no doubt, the emotions that had catapulted him forward.

"Pain is part of existence." Elodie declared, feeling confident in her assessment. "It is part of being human." She wondered if his thoughts were similar to hers. "I once wished desperately to be anything but human." She confided without any further hesitation. "The pain can be so unbearable. It can be so overpowering. It would be a gift to be freed of such human feeling." Her eyes raked his shadowed face. "But then I would never feel love or the warmth of happiness. I wouldn't be here if it was not for pain."

"A lack of pain can be happiness." He said mysteriously, finally turning back to her.

"Erik. You cannot have one without the other." She shook her head pitifully, trying to convey a sense of her philosophy properly.

"You would have me accept both." He declared dully. "You would have me believe in redemption."

"No." She cut across quickly. "Redemption does not interest me."

"What would you have me do?" He demanded, a twinge of anger in his voice.

"I would have you capitulate to humanity." She said slowly. He frowned and turned away hastily. "It does not mean weakness." She added quickly. "Erik, I can see you. I can see your humanity. I can see your existence and it as lonely as you have expressed it to be. It is filled with pain, the very thing you despise. It doesn't have to be all of this. Pain will never fully disappear, but—there can be more."

"How?" The intonation of his voice sounded sincere, terrified. Her hand sought out his face as she readjusted herself toward him.

"Will you let me show you?" Erik's laugh was unexpected, though it didn't trouble her. It bubbled with discomfort and he leaned away from her touch with a sigh. "I know I am far from the best instructor on this matter. I know you know that as well, but, can't you see how you are with me?" His frown was visible in the moonlight.

"What do you mean?" He inquired carefully.

"How many others have you shared your life's story with? How many others have you seen you at your worst and your weakest? Come now, Erik, I may not be brilliant but I'm no fool. You're different with me."

"That's hardly far. You have yet to see me with many other people." He replied sarcastically. She tsked in his direction before turning her head away.

"I came here to apologize, to make myself let you go, but you would not let me." Elodie snapped suddenly, feeling her patience waning. "I have made strides to correct my own actions because I love you. You have changed me, Erik, in ways I never thought possible. For Christ's sake, admit that I've at least had some influence on you!"

"I have!" He shouted back, though his voice sounded highly alarmed.

"No! You haven't! Why will you not just say it?"

"What would you have me say?" He bellowed, standing so abruptly that Elodie's heart rose into her throat. His towering figure was impressive but she did not fear that he would harm her.

"That you love me too." She said in a near whisper. "That we're good for one another in ways that no one else could possibly understand. Hell, I don't understand it myself, but I can feel it and I know you can too."

His shoulders slumped. His dejection was palpable, though Elodie had yet to conclude as to the reason for his reaction. Again, in a slow, methodical manner, he sat back down beside her. His face concentrated on the far expanse of the ocean. Then, in a sign of defeat, his back curved as he buried his face in his palms. A great feeling of ineptness came over her as she sat unmoving, watching Erik crumble once more. It was clear that she could do no more than she had; she had nothing else with which to offer him. Her arsenal was laid bare and her ability to coax him into the light was fading as fast as that last bit of hope.

"I cannot force you into anything, Erik." She finally said softly.

**_Erik_**

_I cannot force you into anything_. Her words echoed continuously as he sat with his eyes squeezed shut against the flesh of his hand. His breathing had regained a semblance of calm and he focused most on the warmth of the air leaving his mouth. Much like the rest of his experiences with strong emotion, he felt a torrent rise and fall within his chest. It was so easy for Elodie to say such a thing. She did not know that she had already forced him down a path he had once thought he'd left behind, lost to impossibility. He was, in truth, at her mercy.

To forget her was impossible. To change in the way she wanted was, well, he found it rather improbable. He felt himself at an impasse and it caused queasy anxiety to quickly replace all other feeling.

"I have never meant to trap you." She said, as if she could understand his thoughts. Her cool fingers touched the back of his hands. His body remained stock still, whether out of his own fright or fear of startling her with movement, he didn't know. In the end it hardly mattered. "Erik." She whispered. She pried his hands away from his face and moved to crouch before him. Her soft palms grasped his chin and directed his head upward.

His heartbeat flew upwards as their eyes locked. Elodie's face was stern, determined in a way he had come to realize meant she would fight him all the way. "I love you." She said once more. She leaned in swiftly, surprising him. Her lips met his and she held herself to him for a moment before kneeling back.

"I-" Erik broke off. His voice had started to tremble, to crack in a way that disturbed him. Elodie became a blurred image. If he could have felt shame for his tears, he might have, but he didn't have much time to register anything before Elodie drew him close to her once more, place his head, tears and all, on her breast. She held him. Her arms were safety nets holding him tightly. Images of Elodie, tiny and frail Elodie, flashed before his mind. Here she was, making all of the boldest of moves.

Before her his life had been such a darkened, closed off route to nowhere. He could neither see the chance in the future, nor did he want to.

Elodie.

She'd burst through his darkness with her own. Now she stood as the pillar, the torch. It astounded him that she was willing to bear his weight, to offer him a chance at a different kind of life. He was not yet sure that he could accept all it would require. He wasn't even sure he wanted it yet, but he did want her there, to hold him, for as long as possible. How often had she said it with conviction in a single night? She loved him. There was a chance, unearthed, and he wasn't ready to let it slip through his fingers.

_**Elodie**_

When she woke it was with a pristine feeling of contentment. She did not immediately open her eyes, fearing the shattering of the previous night. Despite all of its heartache, she could not reject the good that had come out of their reunion. Her entire being felt cleansed, free of any upsetting maladies that had long lain nestled in her conscience. Her lips moved in an echo of the words she could not stop saying the previous night. _I love you_. She let a small smile play across her lips before she struggled upward. The inn room was bare, less familiar to her than the beach or Erik's cottage. Yet, they'd decided it would be best for her to return to her room in the town.

She wondered vaguely what she should do with the train ticket that stared up at her from the writing desk as she approached it carefully. Logically, she should convince him to come with her. Or, at the very least, follow suit after he had settled what few affairs he had in the area. Elodie still doubted it would be that easy to remove Erik from the solitude of the seaside.

There was a soft knock on her door that made her start. Her shaking fingers clenched her dressing gown tighter around her figure. The knock repeated timidly. She let go of a deep exhale and went to the door, careful to open it only so far. The innkeeper's wife stood before her, short in stature and plump in frame. "Yes?" She asked with a quiet nervousness.

"Will you be taking breakfast, mademoiselle?" She countered kindly before trying to peer past Elodie.

"If you could pack it, I'd like to go for a walk." Elodie said, shifting so that the woman could see her starkly unoccupied room. "I'd very much appreciate it." The woman seemed slightly disappointed that Elodie was alone, but nodded none the less. Elodie stared after her back as she trudged down the hall and out of sight. An unsettled question crossed her mind. What if the small town had already grasped onto a rumor of the Mademoiselle Papillion had come to visit the unknown, masked man who lived on the outskirts of their society? It brought a frown to her mouth.

After she had hastily dressed and taken a basket loaded with food, she quickly hurried from the inn in the direction of Erik's cottage. The streets were empty, thankfully, and she made it without interference. She approached the kitchen window and peered in cautiously before making her way to the front and knocking twice. When there was no answer she twisted the knob and watched it fall open. The house was eerily quiet. Her first thought was that he had fled in the night, making their decision for the both of them. Her heart pounded as she calmly deposited the basket on the table before turning on his bedroom. The door was slightly ajar.

Her breath caught in her throat as she steadied her palm against the wood. It creaked slightly under the pressure she exerted. The room was dim, shielded from sunlight by thick curtains. She stepped in, fighting to adjust her eyes more quickly. The bed lay before her. She detected a figure there but was unsure. Elodie's feet crossed, taking direction from her intuition, and stopped before one of the curtains. She carefully pulled it back. There was a groan of discontent from the bed. A laugh escaped her throat before she could stop herself.

Erik was there, mask back in place, shifting groggily against the daylight. "Get up." She ordered. "I refuse to let you sleep the whole day away." Erik's body jolted upright at the sound of her voice. His dark eyes narrowed in on her, a look of confused displeasure crossing his face.

"I see you didn't bother to wait before letting yourself in." His voice sounded gruff, as if it had been in disuse lately. Perhaps he'd done too much talking the night before. Elodie smiled.

"I knocked. There was no answer so, yes, I let myself in. I've brought breakfast, if you're interested." She added before she half-waltzed to the other curtain and drew it wide open. He groaned again, shaking his head fiercely. Elodie tried desperately to restrain the growing feeling of normalcy, or rather, her happiness at the ease with which she was now dealing with the man before her. The man she loved. "Are you hungry?" She inquired as she faced him, folding her arms over her chest.

"No." He blew out curtly, rubbing his face and mask with his palm.

"Well I have more than enough food." She babbled as she motioned for him to stand. She watched as he gathered his legs under him. He started to straighten his rumpled clothing. She reached out to push back his unruly hair. "The innkeeper seemed to be under the impression I would have company on my walk this morning."

"I am not going for a walk." He sighed.

"Neither am I." She declared. "It's simply what I told her." She took the lead, drawing him out of the room. His footsteps were properly discernible behind her, giving her a sense of relief. She waited to sit until he'd haphazardly settled himself across from her. His look, while not upsetting, made her feel the worms of worry begin to move. Vigorously, she began to unpack the basket. She rolled an apple in her palm before looking back up at him.

"Elodie." He said. With the single word, her name, she knew that her mood would falter drastically in a matter of seconds. She struggled for some form of composure, some shield to block out the inevitable. "Last night—it hasn't changed anything." He said slowly after a long pause. Her eyes fell to the apple in her hands. "This," he said waving a hand around the room. "this is unnatural. I can never give you this."

Elodie took a bite out of the apple chewing thoughtfully for a long while. Erik exuded equal amounts of anxiousness and, surprisingly, it pleased her. "You can give me more than this." She finally said before setting the apple on the table. "But, I guess there's no avoiding it, is there?" She sighed. "I'm expected back soon." In miniscule movements, Erik's body steeled itself, his dark eyes taking on a masking of emotion. "I don't suppose it will do any good but I'd like to ask you to come with me."

She watched him closely, her eyes hunting for some sign of expressiveness. There was a twitch of his arms, the faint line of a grimace along his lips, a tightening of his jaw. Hardly noticeable in the grand scheme of his often intimidating figure unless on had been looking for them. She could feel time shift into unnaturalness, recalling days when time itself had no meaning in the outcome of her life. Now, it seemed to speed and drag simultaneously. Minutes passed, but she couldn't be sure it wasn't hours. The answer at the end of this silence would require action one way or another. Her body began to quiver with nervousness, a bitter taste rising up in her mouth. To calm her uneasy stomach, she closed her eyes and placed a hand at the base of her throat.

When she opened her eyes once more, Erik was watching her. She raised her brows in question, unprepared when his mouth started to part, giving out his self-determined punishment for existing, for being a monster, for being loved.


End file.
